


Drowning

by felisblanco



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-09
Updated: 2006-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: AtS S1. Angel goes to Sunnydale and picks up a toxic package.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sorry mate, but I need it more than you do.”

The bum might have disagreed but he was out cold, fingers falling slack as Spike removed the half empty bottle from his dirty hand. He wiped the top with his sleeve and took a swig; thankful he didn’t have to worry about germs. It burned his throat, but in a good way, making him feel warm for a split of a second.

Tugging the coat tighter around his skinny body he stumbled along the alley, wishing he could finish the bottle in one big gulp. But he didn’t know when he’d be able to get hold of another one and he really didn’t want to sober up. Not completely. As long as the alcohol was burning in his belly it wouldn’t remember it was supposed to be filled with blood. Rich warm blood splashing around, giving strength to his tired limbs, healing his weak body. Copper taste, thick and filled with wicked thoughts…

Oh bugger.

He took another big swig but the hunger wouldn’t go away. How long had it been anyway? He tried to remember but his mind was too confused and he lost count. Too long. Too bloody long.

Suddenly he stopped. Voices were coming his way. Bright children’s voices, jabbering about shoes and homework and other pointless things. He slid behind a dumpster, resting against its side, keeping out of sight. No manners, kids today. No respect for their elders, just endless ‘Get lost, Spike’ and ‘What do you want, Fangless?’ Laughing, mocking, humiliating him with their words.

Making him feel so small.

He stayed still until they disappeared around another corner. Going to the Bronze probably. To laugh and gossip and dance until their blood pumped fast through their veins. Not to drink, they never drank. He lifted the bottle to his mouth then looked down at it, surprised by how light it was. Fuck! Now he felt the wetness soaking his jeans. He must have tipped it over somehow. Weak wrists like a woman his father used to say. Weak wrists, weak eyes, weak… everything. ‘No wonder the lads laugh at you, William.’ And then shaking his head, so disappointed.

He really hated his father. Almost as much as he loved him, as much as he longed for his approval. And then the bastard died. Killed by a simple cold. How was that for weak?

His giggles echoed in the dark alley, and he had to bang his head against the wall to make them stop. He was getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t know if it was the hunger or the despair that was making him loose grip on reason. Could be both. Could be the booze. Speaking of which…

This was definitely not good. He could already feel the numbness leaving his head, his limbs. It was hard work, maintaining it for so long. He broke into a liquor store only once. They almost caught him and what the hell would he have done then? So he’d been lurking in the local clubs, finishing drinks that people had left behind, once or twice getting a soggy fag stuck in his throat.

But too soon it wasn’t enough, and in a mad moment of desperation he had found himself in the worst of situations and instead of fighting back he’d just given up. Too weak, too full of self-hatred to care anymore.

Funny that no matter how much alcohol he imbibed he couldn’t get rid off the taste of human cock in his mouth. It was always there, in the back of his throat, clinging to his tongue, reminding him of how filthy he was, how fucking low he’d sunken.

He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his hand before hurling it into the wall in a sudden bout of rage. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

His body started to tremble and the acid in his stomach made him double over. Need more. Need it now.

The last steps were the hardest to take but in the end he stood in front of the wooden door, his hand hovering, willing itself to knock. A sudden noise inside chased him into the bushes where he waited as the door opened and Giles stepped out, guitar case in hand. Before the door slammed shut he managed to toss a corner of his coat in between and when the Watcher had disappeared into the darkness, humming a soft tune, he slipped inside.

Warmth. Smelled of tea and England. And… he sniffed… the distinct smell of Laphroig whisky. 57,3 %.

Giles sure knew his liquor.

He hurried over to the closed cabinet, flung it open, and clutching an almost full bottle to his chest he sank to the floor. His fingers were trembling as he finally managed to unscrew it. The strong aroma hit his sensitive nose and with a shudder of delight he drank the whole bottle down before reaching for another. He should get out, should stuff all those lovely bottles into a bag and hurry home to his cold damp crypt. Soon. Just needed to get warm first. Down a couple of drinks, maybe snuggle up under that wool blanket for a minute…

\-----------------

“You know I can’t keep these things from her. She will know. She always does.” Giles stopped and frowned. “Well, that’s odd…”

But Angel was already inside, not caring about why or how, only who. Because beneath the stench of dirt and tears and… he sniffed… ten year old Laphroig, he could smell him.

“Spike.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Giles stalked over to the sleeping vampire but before he could shake him awake Angel grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“What is he doing here?”

The voice made Giles flinch, memories of torture and humiliation and finding his love dead upstairs assaulting his brain. Angel stepped back. “Sorry.”

“It’s… all right. I don’t know what he’s doing here, except obviously getting drunk on my whisky. My very expensive whisky imported from England I might add. Damn him!”

“I mean, what is he doing _here_? You invited him into your home? Why?”

“I didn’t invite… Oh. I see. Well, it’s hard to keep him away. I never got the invitation revoked once he was no use to us anymore. Not that it really matters, him being harmless, you know.” Giles watched the emotions play on Angel’s face. “You didn’t know. Really? I though he’d come running to you and you’d rightly told him it wasn’t your problem.” He glanced at the sleeping, smelly and very dirty creature, soiling his favourite woollen blanket. “I mean, after all, where does a beaten dog go but to his master.”

“Spike is **not** a dog.”

Giles sighed. “Maybe not, but you are his master though. Or Sire, whatever you like to call it. And now that he’s neutered…”

“He’s what?!”

Giles didn’t seem to notice the coldness in Angel’s voice. “Neutered. Or fangless as the kids like to call him. Still a pain in the neck though, only not quite as literally.”

“He lost his fangs?” Angel shuddered.

“Not really. Not that it would make a difference. He has a chip in his head. Brilliant actually, makes it impossible for him to harm humans without getting a bloody headache. Can’t even step on their toes, poor chap.”

Angel stared at him, Angelus screaming inside, telling him to rip the damn human’s head off. “Why did no one tell me?” His voice was calm but so cold Giles finally seemed to realise the effect his words were having and nervously he took a step back.

“I thought… well, I assumed...” Blushing he looked over at the sleeping vampire. “I really thought he had gone to you first. It only seemed natural.”

“And you actually thought I would turn him away?” Angel walked over and kneeled by the unconscious form. His boy’s face was grey and hollow, his body dirty and smelling potently of whisky and… Angel grew still.

When he stood up and turned around Giles went weak in the knees. That was a face he’d never wanted to see again. “Have you been using him? Was it you?”

“We used him for information. What…?”

“Someone used him for something else.” Angel took a step closer, looming over him. “And you call yourself human.”

“Well really, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We invited him in, hid him from the Initiative until they lost interest and then we let him go. We didn’t stake him, what the bloody hell did you expect us to do with him?”

“I didn’t expect you to let him starve.” Angel gestured angrily toward the smelly lump. “You call him a dog? Even dogs are fed. But I guess the only thing you saw fit to feed him was your cock.”

Giles’ eyes widened and he stepped back. “Angel, I assure you, I’ve never… I wouldn’t… Jesus!”

Angel watched him with dark eyes, then nodded with disgust. “No, I guess not. You just made sure someone else did. After all, news of a handsome defenceless creature travels fast in this town. You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Now look here!” Giles was shaking with rage. “I have no obligation to take care of him. He’s an evil soulless nuisance; he’s tried to kill Buffy more than once and…”

“So why don’t you kill him?” Angel winced inwardly as he said the words but his gaze was steady and filled with anger.

“Because I don’t kill harmless creatures no matter how irritating they are!” Giles was breathing heavily. “We should have fed him? Why? He’s still a vampire, not a bloody pet. If he needed money he could get a job like everyone else.”

Angel laughed coldly. “Doing what? Catering? He has no papers, he can’t be out in the sunlight, only thing he’d be good at would be…” He stopped, then turned and stared at Spike, horror in his eyes. “Oh you didn’t, you stupid boy.”

A pair of blue eyes opened and peered at him through a drunken haze. “But you always said I was a pretty whore.” Spike’s giggles turned into sobs and he curled up like a child. “Pretty little whore.”

Angel sat down and pulled the drunken creature into his arms. “I said you were my pretty little whore, Will. There’s a difference.” But Spike was already out cold again.

Angel held him tight for a minute, not caring about the strange looks Giles was giving him. Taking a deep breath he then stood up with Spike slack in his arms. “I’m taking him with me to L.A. He won’t bother you again.”

As the door slammed shut behind them, Giles found himself feeling surprisingly ill at ease. Shaking his head he went over to the liquor cabinet and reached for the only bottle that hadn’t been breeched and subsequently emptied. He sighed. Sherry. Of course. Oh well, better than nothing.

His hand shook as he poured, his throat tightened as he swallowed. The sweet liquor tasted for some reason like bitter guilt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole trip home Angel kept glancing at his travel companion, hoping to see some sign that he was regaining consciousness. It didn’t happen. Judging from the number of empty bottles that had been lying around Giles’ apartment he wasn’t really surprised. Only a fifth of that would have been enough to kill a human. And in the physical state Spike was in to begin with… Angel stepped harder on the gas. That stupid, stubborn, beautiful boy. What the hell had he been doing with himself?

They reached their destination a few minutes before sunrise. It wasn’t a great effort, carrying the light body in and down to the apartment below the office. Angel lay Spike gently down on the bed, then stood watching him for a long time before moving closer and slowly starting to undress him. The only thing he kept was the coat and the boots. The rest he put in a bag to be thrown away.

A pair of dirty, alcohol-stinking ripped jeans. There were stains on them he didn’t want to analyze but their origin was quite obvious nevertheless. A thin-worn black t-shirt, again stained and reeking. Angel growled as he ripped it off Spike’s unconscious body. Worse than the smell of alcohol, the stench of vomit and cum, was the underlying stink of fear, tinted with the scent of tears. Angelus was spitting with fury, hissing words of vengeance and death inside his head. Angel tried his best to ignore him.

He avoided looking at the bruised naked body as he stripped out of his own clothes. He turned on the shower, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before walking back to fetch Spike. He was just about to step under the running water, Spike’s limp body held upright against his chest, when it suddenly convulsed and as he was struggling to lift the lid off the never used toilet without loosing his hold on Spike, a spray of vomit hit the floor.

He wanted to yell in frustration. He really didn’t need this extra hassle. Why the hell couldn’t he just have left Spike in Sunnydale? But then he looked at the ashen face and he knew why. Clenching his jaw he hauled Spike into the shower, washed his hair and body as quickly as he could then tiptoed past the splatters on the floor and dumped the limp wet body on the bed.

It took him a while to clean up the mess and when he came back into the bedroom Spike was curled up and shivering, goose bumps covering his damp and cold skin. Angel cursed. He’d quickly dried himself and pulled on some sweats but he’d not taken the time to dry Spike and the water dripping off him had already drenched the bedspread and he was obviously too sick to fight the cold.

Biting back the guilt he fetched some dry towels and tried rubbing some heat into Spike’s skin as he dried him. Then he pulled the wet spread off the bed and tucked Spike in. He was still out cold and the lack of response, apart from the projectile vomiting, was beginning to worry Angel. Made him wonder for how long and how excessively Spike had really been abusing his body.

Just thinking the word abuse made his stomach turn. Spike’s slurred confession cut him deeper than he liked to admit. His own responsibility, not only concerning a defenceless creature that he should have protected but even more what Spike’s word had revealed about his self image, was heavy. Whore was a word Angelus had loved to use, to the extent that soon William had begun to believe it. He was Angelus’ whore, his property, his to do with what he pleased. A fact he had taken great pleasure in reminding Spike of when he’d returned to him and Dru after that one moment of ill-gotten happiness.

“Angel? Are you decent? Not taking a shower again, are you? Like, naked?”

Cordelia’s unnaturally loud voice brought him out of his miserable thoughts and he managed to quickly pull on a t-shirt before she reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked out to the living room to find her staring at the leather coat he’d slung over the couch and the pair of scruffy boots accompanying it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had comp… hey, don’t I know that coat?”

“Cordy, look…”

“I’m pretty sure I know that coat. And I’m damn sure I know those boots.” She suddenly pulled out a stake that seemed to magically appear from her very tight jeans. “What the hell is he doing here? Are you evil?”

“No!” Angel backed away. “Why do people always assume I’m evil? I’m not even wearing leather pants!”

“Maybe you haven’t had time to find them yet. Aha! Your hair is wet! Post-coital shower!” Cordelia waved the stake in his face and he patted his hair, noting that it was horribly flat.

“Not post-coit… where do you get those ideas anyway?”

“Pfft, I know all you and Wonderboy got up to in your evil Angelus-y days. Giles had books.” She nodded enthusiastically and he sighed. Why Rupert allowed them to read at all was a mystery to him.

“Look, Cordy. It’s not what you think.”

“He had you tortured and almost killed. And much worse than that, he almost killed _me_ , remember that? I still have the scar to show for it.” She pulled up her shirt to show him the tiny almost invisible white scar.

“He didn’t do that. You fell.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth he knew they were a mistake. If looks could kill… Quickly he changed his strategy. “Anyway, he’s harmless. There’s this army thing… long story short he can’t bite you. Or, you know, make you fall down stairs. Ok?”

She watched him, a frown of suspicion on her face, but then she nodded. “Ok.”

“Ok? That’s it?” He felt almost disappointed.

“No. I want to know why he’s here, how long he’s gonna stay and you have to promise me you won’t go evil. And if he becomes a threat I’m staking him faster than you can say ‘Down boy!’”

He looked at her for a long time, then sighed. “All right. Come here.” She followed him into the bedroom, stopping short when he stepped aside to reveal the form lying on the bed.

“He looks… is he all right?” She sounded almost concerned.

“I don’t know. This is more or less how I found him. Except a lot smellier.” He absentmindedly straightened the cover, stroking a few stray hairs away from Spike’s face in the passing. “See, the thing is I couldn’t leave him there. I know you don’t understand it but… no matter what, he’s still family. So I don’t know how long he’s staying. Until I know what to do with him, I suppose.”

She stood still for a moment then nodded. “All right. I guess that will have to do. Just… keep an eye on him, ok?” She turned around and headed back to the office, leaving Angel standing by the bed, doing just that.

Suddenly the stress and sleeplessness crashed down on him and he felt ready to drop on the spot. Undressing again Angel moved to the bed but at the last moment stopped. What the hell was he doing? Confused he gathered his clothes and walked over to the couch instead. The last thing he felt before he drifted off to sleep was the distinct scent of Spike emanating from the leather coat draped over the back of the couch.

~~~~~~~~~

The whole world was spinning. The nausea hit him like a wave and for the longest time he lay still, fighting to keep down the acid that was threatening to erupt. Then suddenly the headache attacked him, like someone was driving a dull sword through his brain. Oh god.

He only just managed to lean outside the bed before throwing up on the floor. His stomach was too empty to deal with it though and after a couple of tiny splashes all he could do was dry heave and clutch his belly in agony. He felt so cold he was shivering. Almost blinded by the pain he fell out of bed and shakily got to his feet.

Two steps and he fell down again. He wanted to cry but more than that he wanted a drink. Needed a drink. That was what was wrong with him, he was finally sobering up. God, he wanted to die. He had no idea where he was, although there was a familiar smell in the air. But he didn’t really care; all he cared about was the bottle he suddenly spotted on a shelf on the opposite wall. Shining like the Holy Grail filled with golden liquid. He could almost taste it. Salvation.

He crashed into the wall a couple of times, knocking over a vase and some swords that were hanging there. One of them cut his arm but he didn’t care about that either. His eyes and mind were fixated on the bottle. Just a few more steps…

His trembling fingers were already touching the cut crystal when suddenly it was snatched from his hand and for a moment he was blinded with rage. Snarling he turned to whoever was stupid enough to come between him and his drink.

“Think you’ve had enough of that.”

Him. Of course it was him. Bloody holier than thou Soulboy. His damn Sire, the fucking traitor of his kind. A sodding whisky thief too.

“Give it to me. Now!”

Angel was watching him, a look Spike didn’t understand on his face. Almost looked like sympathy but that couldn’t be right. Not that he cared. He shifted into game face and attacked.

In retrospect it wasn’t very bright. First of all, Angel was holding the bottle, which fell to the floor and broke into a million tiny pieces. Second, as he landed on Angel he realised that not only was his Sire naked, but so was he. Third, he had the coordination of a new born calf if said calf had been bred in its mother’s womb on nothing but vodka.

The result was a naked, wet wrestling among splatters of whisky and slivers of glass and all it took was a light punch in his stomach to make him keel over. Lying on the wet floor, he breathed in the toxic smell of alcohol and blood and the useless waste of both suddenly overwhelmed him. Licking the pinkish liquid of his fingers he started to cry.

~~~~~~~~

Oh God.

Slowly Angel got to his feet and gazed down at the man lying at his feet. What on earth had happened to make him become such a wretched creature? He knew it was bad, but this…

He slowly pulled on his pants, keeping a weary eye on Spike where he lay shivering on the floor. He hissed as the fabric tugged on tiny slivers of glass stuck in his skin. This was gonna be a fun day with tweezers.

“Come on, get up.” He offered Spike his hand but he didn’t seem to notice. Sighing he grabbed Spike’s arm and pulled him up but although he didn’t resist he didn’t seem to have any strength to keep himself upright so in the end Angel had to clutch him to his chest and drag him away from the mess. Glass was stinging the soles of his feet but he ignored it for now. Unceremoniously he dumped the trembling naked body on the bed, cursed at the puddle of vomit on the floor and went to clean up the mess. Not even a day and Spike already had him cleaning up after him like he was some damn maid.

Strangely enough the thought didn’t make him mad. Irritated, yes, but not mad. He was too worried about him to really be mad. After cleaning the floor he got a pair of tweezers and pulled out the slivers of glass that had found their way under his feet. When he was satisfied with there not being any serious cuts he walked into the bedroom again and sat down on the bed, watching Spike who had stopped crying and now only lay there, staring into the wall.

“You need to feed. I’ll bring you some blood if you promise you won’t go stumbling around in here, breaking more of my things.”

Spike didn’t answer him, just continued his stare. It was rather unsettling, seeing him like that. Angel couldn’t remember Spike ever being still, and hardly ever being quiet. It made him more nervous than the snarling and yelling had done before. Sighing he stood up and went into the kitchen. When he came back Spike still hadn’t moved. He was lying naked on top of the covers, wet and smelling of whisky and blood. When Angel reached out to touch him he flinched away but not before he felt how cold he was. Like ice, way colder than he should be. Frowning Angel pulled the cover over him.

“Here, drink this.” Spike looked up in confusion but then the sweet aroma of the blood hit him and he sat up quickly and grabbed the mug with trembling hands.

“Wow, slow down. You haven’t eaten in… how long? You’ll only… Oh great.”

Just fabulous. More mopping. He should really get an apron and those yellow rubber gloves all the housewives on TV seemed to have. He wanted to growl and hit the little shit but there was no mistaking the smell of fear and pain that even overwhelmed the sickening stink of used blood. Spike was convulsing on the bed, face set in agony.

The rest of the blood had spilled on the bed and Angel couldn’t help feeling a small sting of sadness. Always liked those sheets but nothing would get all those stains out.

“Come on. Let’s do this again from the start. You need another shower and you’ve got some nasty cuts. We’ll take care of that first and then we’ll try the blood again.”

“I need a drink.” Spike’s voice was hoarse but the desperation was palpable. “Angel, please. Anything, even that piss you drink.”

“You need a lot of things, primarily some clothes and a brain transplant, but you don’t need a drink. You’ve drunk enough for a lifetime. Even your lifetime.”

“Angel, don’t be a ponce. One drink. I need it. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Angel shook his head in disbelief. “You drank ten bottles yesterday. Ten fucking bottles! In about two hours! Even for you that’s more than enough.”

Spike frowned. “Ten? No, that can’t be. I can’t remember…”

“I’m surprised you can remember your own name.” Angel paused. “You do remember your name, right?”

“Fuck off.”

“Good. Now get up.”

Spike scowled but struggled to sit up. Then he paused and looked down. “Why am I naked?” He snapped his eyes up at Angel. “You sodding pervert! You don’t even bother to wake a bloke up these days? Soul or no soul, you’re still a raping bastard, aren’t you?”

“What? I didn’t… You were disgusting, filthy, stinking like a sewer. Just be glad I didn’t make you ride naked in the car. And, you know, a whole football team could have thumped your ass without you noticing because you were completely out of it.” Seeing the look on Spike’s face he quickly added, “That didn’t happen.”  
  
“Well, I reckon you’ve seen enough of my pretty arse. Turn around.” Angel stared at him unbelievingly but when Spike didn’t budge he sighed and turned his back. There was grunting and cursing and then everything went quiet.

“Erm… Angel? Think you would mind lending me a hand? Or possibly two? My legs won’t work.”

Angel rolled his eyes and turned around but whatever sarcastic comment had been burning on his tongue it died out when he saw the humiliated look on Spike’s face. “Sure. No problem.”

Spike’s skin was sticky with blood and alcohol. And still so cold Angel couldn’t help shivering as he pulled him up and clutched him to his chest to keep him standing. They stumbled into the bathroom and he lowered Spike to sit on the toilet while he adjusted the shower’s temperature. “There. It’s ready…” He paused and looked over at Spike that sat slumped, refusing to meet his eyes. “Do you need help?”

Spike’s jaw was so tense Angel thought he would break his teeth from biting down so hard. “No. I’ll just use my fucking wings to fly in there.”

“Ok. No reason to get pissy.” He started to pull off his sweats.

“What… what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get your bloody cock away from me!”

“I’m not going to take a shower with my pants on. Not like it’s the first time…” He stopped. Spike was glaring at him but there was a twitch tugging at his lips and a look in his eyes he remembered too well. Slowly he pulled his sweats back on. “Ok. I’ll wet my pants.” He frowned. “I mean…” He glared at Spike’s smirking face but deep inside he was glad to see him smile, if only for a second.

This shower was even shorter than the previous one. Angel held Spike up as he washed himself, only briefly touching his cock, like he was afraid to bring attention to it with Angel so close. Spike sat on the toilet as he dried off and Angel changed into dry jeans and a t-shirt before helping him into the living room and onto couch.

“What about clothes? I’m not a fucking peep show, mate.”

“Like anyone would want to see you anyway.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out but it was too late.

Spike’s face closed off and he stared down, tugging the blanket tighter around him.

“I… I’ll get Cordelia to buy you something.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The voice was flat and he wanted to reach out and apologise. Except this was Spike. He never apologised to Spike. He wasn’t sure why, it just wasn’t done. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t hurry up on my account.” Spike leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, mouth set in a thin line. “Apparently I’m not going anywhere.”

Angel would have almost believed his casual tone if his whole body hadn’t been trembling. He hesitated for a moment before turning around and taking the elevator up to the office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this is AtS S1 which is why Wesley is so... well, you'll see. Warnings for some dark stuff. (I should have said that in the last chapter, right? Oops.) Not in action though, just memories.

“About time you showed up. This is supposed to be Angel Investigation, you know. Know how many people have come in here and thought that was _me_? Of course Angel is a girl’s name…”

“It’s not a girl’s name.” He poured himself a mug of Cordelia’s horrendous coffee then frowned. “We had clients? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“Because first off, they weren’t real clients. One wanted to sell us some insurance and the other thought this was an escort service.”

Angel looked over at her where she sat perched on the desk, skirt riding high on her thigh, top bright red and revealing. “Can’t imagine why.”

“I know! And second, now that I know who you have down there I’m not going near your apartment. Sorry mister, as long as he’s staying there I’m staying up here.”

“Actually you’re leaving.” He got up his wallet and regretfully pulled a couple of hundred dollar bills out only hesitating for a second before handing them over to the girl who was staring at him in hurt shock.  
  
“What? You can’t fire me! And certainly not over some bleached blond murderous…”

“You’re going shopping. Spike needs clothes and you get the day off.”

“…adorable little vampire. You can count on me, boss.” She tugged the money into her purse, then paused and smiled at him. “Now about my commission…”

“You’re getting the day off! You… oh all right.” Growling he said goodbye to another hundred dollars. “When you’re done, bring them over here. Don’t think I can handle a naked Spike for much longer.”

“Oh really?” She swung the door open, heading out into the sun. “From what I’ve heard you used to “handle” him quite well.”

Shaking his head in exasperation he sat down at his desk and checked through the pile of mail. Bills, bills, junk mail, bills. Who knew the life of a detective would be so glamorous? He sighed and leaned back in the chair for a quiet moment. Wesley would probably pop in later in the day, fumbling with his glasses, hope in his eyes. He really should ask him if he wanted a job but the Angelus part in him just loved watching the nervous man work up the courage to beg. The actual begging would be even more fun.

How he would take the news of Spike’s arrival was quite another matter.

The elevator wasn’t half way down when he smelled the alcohol. Cursing violently he ripped open the cage and stormed into the living room. The couch was deserted but he followed the scent into the bedroom. The sight that met him was sorrowful to say the least. Two empty bottles, a third one clutched in the trembling hand of a naked vampire looking up at him with blurred eyes.

“Spike…” He’d only been gone about half an hour.

“Di-did you really think you could hide it from me?” Spike swung the bottle accusingly at him before taking another swig. “I know you. Know all your dark little secrets. Ha!” He tried to stand up but only resulted in rolling over on the floor. Giggling disturbingly he grabbed the edge of the bed and hauled himself up to a sitting position again. “Booze stealing bastard. Wanker. Ponce. Tosser.”

“Tossing you out, you mean.” Angel snagged the bottle away but there was only a little left in it anyway. “Since your legs are working so well all of a sudden I’m sure you can find your way to the nearest bar.”

“You’re chucking me out ‘cause I drank some of your pissy alcohol? Oh, that’s bloody priceless. That’s… And I didn’t walk, I bloody well crawled… Get your fucking hands off me!” He slapped weekly at Angel who grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him toward the sewer entrance.

“I’m chucking you out because it’s just not worth the hassle keeping you here, Spike.”

“Stop! Fucking stop, you bloody ponce! Stop it! I’m still naked, you wanker. Stop! Angel, please!”

He paused, looking down at the blond head disappearing into the darkness below, cramping fingers holding desperately on to the edge of the hatch. Spike looked up, tears glittering in his drunken eyes and with a sigh Angel grabbed him by the arms and hauled him back up. He dumped him unceremoniously on the bed and threw a blanket over the trembling body.

“No more alcohol. I mean it, Spike. I’m not cleaning up any more of your mess, not hauling your naked ass around the place. You get to stay, I’ll give you blood and clothes and that’s it. This is not a fucking hotel. Not that I expect respect from you but a thank you would be nice.”

There was no answer and he turned away, taking a swig himself from the bottle before remembering it was only ten in the morning. Fuck, the day was ruined anyway. He lifted the bottle for another draught when he heard a subdued sob from the bed.

Oh great.

He turned and gazed down on the sickeningly thin body shivering under the covers. The skin was grey and damp with sweat and despite the two showers he could still smell the undeniable stench of humans. Closing his eyes for a moment he took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing the unruly bleached hair away from the clammy forehead.

“Hey, I’m…” He caught himself at the last minute. He had nothing to apologise for. Nothing. Which didn’t explain why he felt so bad. “Spike, what happened to you? Giles told me about the chip but… The Spike I know would never have…” He stopped again. Spike didn’t seem to remember his few seconds of awareness at Giles apartment and the subject of whoring was surprisingly hard to bring up considering how many times they had enjoyed it in the past.

“Look, I’m not going to throw you out, all right? I probably would have fetched you right up again after a few minutes. Just so you know. And Cordy is buying you clothes as we speak so… Will you please look at me?”

Spike shook his head but then he looked up and Angel felt another twinge of guilt as he saw the uncertainty and ill masked fear in his blood-sprung eyes. Then they filled up with tears again and Spike buried his face in the pillows and started sobbing. “You-you hate me.”

Angel sighed. So they were at that stage of drunkenness. “No, Spike. I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do.” Spike sniffed. “You think I’m an evil vampire thing.” He let loose a long wail.

“Well, you are.” The wailing doubled. “Oh come on, Spike. You love being an evil vampire thi… an evil vampire.”

“Yeah, but you… you don’t. You hate me because I’m not a soulbrooding poof like you.”

Angel wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch him or pet him. “What do you care what I feel anyway? You hate me too.”

“Yeah, but… you’re all I have left. No one loves me any-anymore and I’m all alone.” The wailing had quieted down to soft keening but that was even sadder.

Angel sat in silence for a while, absentmindedly stroking the blond head. He’d heard Drusilla was gone off somewhere again. Not the first time but this time he had a feeling she wouldn’t be back. She liked her men biting. Spike never was a loner. Not really. For all his Big Bad attitude he was actually quite the family man. A twisted incestuous family man but still…

“Look, Spike. You’re not alone. Didn’t I say you could stay here with me? I’m…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I tried to throw you into the sewer, I shouldn’t have done that. I just got so angry.” The crying subdued a little but Spike still had his face pressed into the pillows. “Hey, we’re family, right? Family takes care of each other.”

Spike looked up, eyes blurred. “But-but you left me there. You didn’t come.”

“What?” He frowned. “Come where? Are you talking about Rumania? You know I couldn’t…”

“I was in that place and-and I called for you. But you didn’t… you didn’t come. Didn’t care. No one came. Except Them.” He started shivering, curling up on himself on the bed.

Realisation slowly dawned on Angel. “What place? That Initiative?”

Spike visibly flinched and curled up even tighter. “Laughing. Spitting. Took-took my clothes. And I couldn’t…”

“Spike, I had no idea about that. I just found out last night. They put a chip in your head, I know.”

The silence was painful. Then the tense air was broken by a hysterical giggle as the blond head shook from side to side in denial.

“They did other things? What did they do?”

“Pretty little whore. Such a pretty little whore. Like that, bitch? Like that? Like…” The voice trailed off. A few seconds later Spike went slack, blissfully passed out.

Angel sat frozen for a long time. Then he stood up and walked into the living room, opened the cupboard and pulled out an unopened bottle of whiskey. His last one. He didn’t even bother with a glass, just walked to the couch and sat down heavily.

There was no doubt in his mind what Spike had been talking about. It made him fume with rage but above all it made him numb with guilt. Why hadn’t he known? Why hadn’t he come to rescue him? How long had he been in there? He had to call Giles and ask him more about this organisation, what they did, how they operated, where they were so he could kill them.

But whatever had happened at the Initiative before he managed to escape it was clearly not the last time because the smell was too fresh and according to Giles he had been free for at least two months. Two months of drinking his brain dead and obviously paying for it by all means necessary. It made him feel sick, thinking of Spike used like that. By anyone else than you, you mean, said that nagging voice that he called his soul and he took another drink to quiet it down. He wondered why he hadn’t come to him. Giles was right, and wasn’t that ironic, he should have been Spike’s first choice, his only choice, and the fact that he hadn’t even called him was surprisingly hurtful.

Of course the last time they had seen each other Spike had been torturing him with hot pokers. That might have dampened his enthusiasm for a heartfelt reunion a bit but he suspected that it was much more a matter of pride. He would have hated to admit to Angel that he was defenceless and now that he knew what had happened to him in that place he was even more convinced pride and shame had been the leading factor.

The slow hesitant creaking of steps made him sigh and he put away the bottle, which was by now surprisingly light. “Come on down, Wesley.”

“Erm… yes. Just wondering if there was anything I could do. Fighting evil and such. I see the lovely Cordelia is out. Is there…?”

“She’s shopping. And the only demon to fight around here would be mine.”

The frozen silence and distinct smell of fear only gave him a tiny feeling of satisfaction. Slowly he stood up and faced Wesley who was trying to look as innocent as he could while hiding a stake behind his back. “I’m talking metaphorically, Wesley. Still souled. No leather pants.”

“Haha, yes. I knew that. Vampire humour. Very droll.” The stake fell to the floor as he tried to hide it in his pocket and Angel watched amused while Wesley bent down to fetch it, only to drop it again. His face was flushed red and his heart was beating at a delicious rate when he finally straightened up.

“Although I do have a vampire in my bed.”

‘Clang’

God, this was fun.

“Va-vampire?” Lalala, no stake to see here. “Is it… chained up?” Wes stopped and blushed even further. “Not that I’m suggesting that…”

“Actually he’s passed out. Naked. Too much excitement, I guess. And the drink didn’t help.” How he managed to keep his face straight was amazing. Maybe he should consider an acting career.

“Oh. Oh!” Wes’ grip tightened around the wood and he took a step backwards. “I see. Maybe I should just…”

Angel wondered for a moment if he should start talking about bruises and blood and a possible threesome but by the look of things Wes would have run all across town before he managed to finish the tale satisfactorily. Instead he sighed and gave the man a small smile. “Wes, it’s just Spike. He needed a place to stay and I took him in. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Spike?” Wes blinked. “William the Bloody? In there?” He started backing away even faster and Angel wished Spike were awake to see it. It would probably boost his moral better than any alcohol.

“Yes, that Spike. But don’t worry. He has some kind of chip in his head and he can’t harm you. Or anyone for that matter. Some government thing called…”

“The Initiative?” Wesley suddenly perked up, pushing his spectacles further up on his nose. “Really? The Behavioural Modification Experiment? Well, how fascinating!”

Angel frowned. “Maybe not quite the word I would use for it.”

“No, really. Apparently it renders it impossible for those implanted with this ‘chip’ to impose any violence on humans. Brilliant, I must say.”

Angel’s eyes flashed yellow for a short moment while he tried to keep his anger under control. “Brilliant? Yes, I guess a human would see it that way.”

Wes frowned. “But surely you must agree that making humans safe from these demons is a welcome aid in the fight against evil?”

“And I guess the demons’ right to defend themselves is irrelevant?”

“I’m not sure I understand…Defend themselves against what? From what I know they can still fight each other.”

Wes looked bewildered and didn’t even try to fight back when Angel grabbed his arm and dragged him into the bedroom. There he flung the covers off the upper part of Spike’s unconscious body and stepped back, nostrils flaring with anger. “Understand this? This is what happens when you are left defenceless in the dark.”

Wesley stepped back, paling. “But-but I thought it only worked against humans.”

“It does. You are a grown man, Wesley. Surely you know by now what your species is capable of.”

“But… Oh.”

“Yes.” He pulled up the covers again. “The world isn’t black and white, humans against demons. You should know that better than anyone.” He looked down at the sleeping form, stroking the painful ridges on his forehead soothingly until they smoothed. “Just be glad I didn’t show you the lower part.”

He didn’t move as Wes turned and walked slowly away, for once being the one feeling the burden of his kind’s depravity.

The day was spent brooding. He had no idea what to do with the drunken sorrow snoring loudly in his bed. It was one thing to say he could stay, it was quite another planning how it would work out. He couldn’t keep him locked up forever but out on the streets he would be in permanent danger. And even if most of his work involved demons he did run into humans every now and then and he couldn’t exactly tell Spike to step back and keep quiet while he took care of them himself. Spike would never obey him anyway and then ‘poof’. On the other hand, could he really have the chip removed? Technically, maybe. Morally? He wasn’t so sure. A chip-free Spike would mean an evil killing Spike that would stalk out of here as soon as he could and then he’d be left all alone again.

Wait. Where did that thought come from? He didn’t care if Spike was here or not. Actually he would be extremely happy if he could get rid off him. It was just his killing that he was worried about. Yeah, that was it. Of course he could stake him but staking him when he was harmless seemed stupid. But going through the process of having the chip removed only to stake him after sounded even more ridiculous.

“Still dressed? Still souled? No naked vampires waiting to bite me?”

Who thought he’d ever be glad to have his brooding disturbed by a chatty cheerleader?

“Come on down, Cordy. Everyone’s good and decent.” Of course he would also say that if…

“Well, you’d say that anyway, wouldn’t you? I have a stake. And holy water. And a cross. And-and garlic breath!” She peeked down from the stairs, scowling at him.

Oh god, not again. “Cordelia, what have I told you about vampire senses?”

She waved her hand dismissively, bringing him another cloud of the horribly offensive smell. “Not my fault you have a sensitive nose. I’m not giving up Pasta di Mare. Anyway, clothes!”

Dumping the mountain of bags on the couch she started pulling up one item after another, chatting away cheerfuly. “And this I got at Neiman Marcus. Isn’t it just adorable? And this? Such a bargain. 50% off! And wait until you see the shoes. So chic. Where did I put that bag again?”

“Erm… aren’t those a little… flimsy?” Not to mention bright and made out of far too small materials. “I’m not sure Spike will…” Although that red silky thing…

“Those are mine, silly. His are in that one.” She pointed to one big bag mostly hidden under the pile of clothes spread all over the couch.

“Cordy.” He pinched his nose. Were vampires really supposed to get migraines? “Didn’t I give you double the amount to buy for him? You spent it all on yourself, didn’t you?”

“What?! No, I didn’t Mister Suspicious. Didn’t you hear what I said? Sales! Many small bags for many little things.” She waved over the pile then pointed at the bag in Angel’s hands. “Big bag for few big things. Capice?” She shook her head in frustration. “Men!”

Still not sure he believed her he looked into the bag and paused. Then he pulled out the items one by one, holding them up before laying them carefully folded on the coffee table. When the final item had been investigated he looked up at Cordelia who was watching him with a satisfied look on her face. “Well?”

“You did… good. Thank you.”

“That’s all? Do you know how much cleavage I had to show to get those leather pants at a decent price?” She ignored his look that said that much more cleavage would mean her boobs falling out. “See, he’s evil anyway and with that great ass? It’s essential I tell you. You’ll thank me properly when you see him wearing them. And that silk t-shirt was supposed to cost 50$. 50! I straightened that out fast enough. And those shirts? Two for one. Then one pair of jeans. Black of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I guessed he didn’t wear underwear any more than you do…Oh, like I can’t tell! But if you want I can buy you both some, because… gross. Socks, a couple of more t-shirts… You know I saw this cute little jacket but he’s married to that coat, isn’t he?” She sighed. “Maybe someday.”

Angel couldn’t help smiling. “Been a long time since you had the opportunity to play with your Ken and Barbie?”

She blushed. “Oh shut up and be thankful I didn’t buy you matching Gay Pride bracelets.”

“We are not gay! We’re vampires!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m going home. Have fun dressing him up.” She scooped her clothes back into the bags and gathered them in her hands. “How is he by the way?”

“Not good. Know any nearby AA places?”

“That bad?” She smiled encouragingly. “Lots of coffee and aspirin. I’ll make some before I...”

“No no, that’s all right.” No reason to poison him on top of everything else. “I’ll do it when he wakes up.”

“Ok. Call me if you need anything. See you tomorrow.”

He waited until he could hear the door click close upstairs. “It’s all right. You can come out now.”

There was a small shuffle and then Spike leaned against the wall, trying to look as casual as possible with nothing but a sheet around his waist. “Just didn’t want to scare the bint, that’s all.”

Angel almost laughed, Cordy wasn’t exactly the easily scared type, but he caught himself at the last moment. “Thank you. She brought you clothes.”

“I heard.” He didn’t move. “I also heard that you think I’m an alcoholic.” His face was blank.

Angel sighed. “I didn’t mean… Well, ok I did. You have a problem, Spike. It looks like you’ve lived on nothing but booze the two months since you… since that happened. Look at you. You’re already trembling for a drink and you just knocked off three bottles a few hours ago.”

Spike looked away, his jaw tense. “I’m a vampire, remember? We don’t get addicted.”

“That’s bull and you know it.” Angel sighed and rubbed his temples. “Think I haven’t been there? A hundred years I roamed the world hungry and alone. Think I never decided to hell with it all and tried to drown myself at the bottom of a bottle? Wishing I was able to forget about the soul, the guilt, my whole miserable unlife? Been there, done that, but each time I managed to get away from it. It wasn’t easy but you need to do it or it’s all over.”

Spike was staring at the floor. “What do you care?”

“Well, for one thing I’m not going to pay for it and second, I hate seeing you like this. I do care, you know I do.”

Spike looked up at him and for a moment it seemed as if he would break down again but then he straightened and walked over to the couch, only stumbling once before reaching his destination where he sat down heavily. “Let’s see what she got me then.”

The leather pants put a small smile on his face but in the end he opted for the jeans and one of the plain black t-shirt. Angel watched him disappear with his clothes of choice into the bedroom and wondered how long it would take to rip them off him again.

\--------------

Spike sank down on the bed and stared sightlessly at the clothes lying on his lap. The effort of keeping his head high and walking into the living room and back had drained him of all energy and he just wanted to lie down and sleep for the next century. Everything hurt and he craved the only thing that could dull the pain but he knew Angel wouldn’t let him and the thought made him want to cry. If it was the lack of alcohol or the evidence of concern that was making him feel that way was uncertain. Slowly he raised his hand and watched it tremble like a leave before his eyes. Angel was right. He was pathetic. A drunken useless waste.

God, he was so miserable.

He lay down and drew the cover over his head. He’d been wrong in getting up. This was where he belonged. Lying in bed, never facing anyone or anything again. Ever. He just wished he didn’t feel so cold. Why didn’t Angel have any decent blankets? Did he really not feel how bloody cold it was in here? He groaned as another cramp twisted his belly.

He wondered how he’d ended up here. Had Angel finally come to look for him or…? Didn’t he say something about Giles? Yeah… He’d found him at Giles’ in Sunnydale. Maybe the bloody Watcher had called him and asked him to come get his wayward childe. He snorted, wincing when it doubled the headache that was currently trying to implode his brain.

He remembered an embarrassing naked shower with Angel but not much more and he could only hope it was because he’d been unconscious. He didn’t like the look Angel kept giving him though and for a terrified moment he imagined he’d told him everything. But he killed that thought as soon as it popped up. No way had he ever told Angel about that.

He suddenly sensed Angel standing in the room, looking down at him and he froze. _Please, go away. Just leave me alone. I want to die; I want to sleep here forever._

“Spike, you need to feed. And apparently drink lots of awful coffee.”

He shook his head stubbornly. He wasn’t leaving his cocoon. His only friend in the whole wide world.

“You’re shivering. You’re too cold. If you don’t feed you’ll only get weaker and weaker, you know that.”

He ignored him.

“Spike, what do you want from me? I can’t do this; I can’t help you unless you talk to me. Please.”

Angel’s voice sounded almost desperate and for a moment Spike contemplated peeking out at him to see if he was bluffing. Instead he pulled the cover even tighter around his body. So cold. Why was it so bloody cold in here?

“Listen, Will…”

He froze. The gentle tone was terrifying. Shut up. Please. Please don’t.

“I know… what happened. At that place and… and later.”

Where was a stake when you needed one? “Fuck off, Angel.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you, I don’t know, at least call and tell me what was going on?”

His self-pity made way for a sudden bout of rage and he threw the thin cover off and glared at Angel who stepped back, nervously. “Come to _you_? Call _you_? And say what? Oh hello Sire, sorry about that little torture thing. No hard feelings, eh? And while we’re chatting I seem to find myself in a bit of a whoring situation. Any way you could help an old pal out?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He stared at him incredulous. “You are joking, right? You haven’t cared about me in over a hundred years and now suddenly you’re going all paternal? Well, it’s too little and too bloody late.”

He sat up and angrily pulled on the jeans. “Want to know why I didn’t come to you? Crawling, begging, throwing my drunken raped arse at your mercy?”

The seams of the t-shirt creaked as he thrust his arms and head through. Then he stood up, although shakily and turned to Angel, rage coming off him in waves.

“Two weeks I was in there. Two sodding weeks. Starved, drugged, made their personal little lab rat. And those were the good times, mate. Because guess what, they just loved having ‘Angel’s boy’ at their mercy. Yeah, that’s right. Did their homework those boys and what do you know? Seems you pissed off one of their own. Slutty’s little boyfriend. Tall wanker, dressed in green. Ring a bell?” He sneered and nodded as Angel looked away. “Thought so. Didn’t do anything himself. Saving his sweet arse for the love of your life, I presume or maybe he just doesn’t swing that way. Whatever. Didn’t stop him from giving his pals free range though, did it?”

“Spike, I’m…”

“Shut up. You shut your fucking gob! Know how many times I had to listen to them laughing your name? ‘If your daddy knew, Spike. Maybe we should send him a picture.’ ‘Yeah, that’s it. Scream for him to come and save you. He doesn’t care. He told us we could keep you. ‘Pound him real good one time for me, boys,’ he said.’” He laughed at Angel’s shocked face. “Oh, I knew they were lying. I’m not stupid enough to believe they’d actually contacted you. But here’s the funny thing, all that time I hung on to the hope that you would come for me. Don’t know why since you haven’t cared one way or the other since you got that bloody soul, but I did. And then in the end I realised it was all some stupid dream in my head and even if you had known I was there you would in all likelihood have shrugged and told them it wasn’t your fucking problem.”

His tone was rising, close to hysterical but he didn’t care. He was trembling all over and yelling at the two Angels that were staring at him, slowly swaying from side to side. “Because you don’t care, do you? All you care about is your precious soul and your precious humans and bugger the rest. Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Sire?”

Ok fuck, now there were three of them. Before he could decide which one to attack his legs gave away and he was once again sprawled on the floor, the entire room spinning. Bugger. He felt deflated. All that anger for nothing. He didn’t even fight back when Angel silently lifted him up on to the bed again, just closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. Bet Vienna was nice at this time of year. Or Hell.

He kept them closed, listening to Angel moving around the apartment. Tried not to think of how silly he must have looked, how bloody pathetic. Not that he cared what Angel thought. Not at all.

“Here, sit up.”

He ignored him even if the smell of blood was making his head spin.

“Spike, please. You need…”

“No.”

“Spike.”

“Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Sit up and drink the damn blood.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re starving. You haven’t eaten anything in weeks from the look of you. Stop being a brat and eat!”

He flung his eyes open and glared at him. “Brat? _Brat_?! I just told you how I was abused in your name and you have the nerve to call me a brat? Fuck you, Angel. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

Angel shook his head, eyes glaring. “No. I wasn’t the one that abused you, I didn’t tell them to do it since I had no idea you were in there and whatever you may think this wasn’t my fucking fault!”

Spike half rose off the bed. “Of course it was your fucking fault! Everything is your fucking fault, Angel. You did this. You did this to me and you don’t even have the decency to say you’re sorry.”

Angel growled. “Not me, you idiot. I may have done things to you in the past but for once it wasn’t me. So get the fuck off my back.” He turned away but only for a moment before swivelling around, blood splashing around in the mug that was clenched tight in his hands. “And I am sorry. I’m sorry for what happened to you and I wish I had known because I would have come and I would have saved you and don’t you fucking think it kills me to see what they’ve done to you? To smell their stench on you? Mine. You’re mine and they dared to touch you? I should kill them. I should kill every one of them for what they did.” He took a deep breath, jaw clenched, then thrust the mug into Spike’s hand. “Now drink your damn blood or I’ll pour it down your fucking throat.”

Spike sat frozen, staring at him, but then he took the mug with shaking hands and drank. It tasted strange, even worse than that dog he’d eaten a few weeks ago but he could feel the strength in it and dutifully drank it all down as slowly as he could. When it was finished he handed Angel back the mug without a word and lay back down, grimacing as his stomach twisted and turned in protest. He had a vague recollection of vomiting, repeatedly, and felt a wave of gratitude toward Angel for not mentioning it.

“Digest that for a while and then I’ll bring you some more.”

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes and soon he was lost in dreams of pretty necks and amber liquids.

Angel stood watching him, the pale face twitching with emotions as he slept. He looked so young and so damn sick. Despite his words earlier Spike’s confession had shaken him deeply and the guilt was twisting his soul. He wondered if he’d had handled things differently if he’d known the repercussion it would have. Possibly. Possibly he’d just have beaten G.I. Joe harder.

He also pondered his reaction, the words he’d said, the promises he’d made. He didn’t much doubt that if he’d walked in on those soldier boys in action, heads would have rolled. Literally. He did however doubt he would go on a journey of revenge, however much he wanted to. His war wasn’t against humans, even if they deserved it. And revenge was such a petty word anyway.

But what disturbed him more was his confession of still regarding Spike as his property. Was it true? Did he still consider Spike his? More importantly, why had Spike not objected?

All these thoughts were making him dizzy and he retreated to the living room with a book and a drink and a head full of memories. Deep thoughts deserved comfort and before long he was sitting by a faint light, a book lying unopened on his lap, unfocused eyes staring into the night.

When the stars started dwindling he lay down on the couch and longed for his warm and soft bed, spooning a pale and wiry body, running his hands over… zzz…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again warnings of unpleasant memories. Enjoy!

The next few days they didn’t talk. Spike spent most of his time sleeping which was a blessing because when he was awake his trembling and dry heaving was disturbing to say the least. He didn’t feed much, didn’t seem able to handle more than a mug at a time, but the greyish tone was fading from his skin and he was slowly gathering strength. Too slowly, Angel thought, although a small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that was good because as soon as Spike was well enough other issues would have to be addressed. Like what the hell was he supposed to do with him?

The atmosphere was heavy with silence. Angel started spending more and more time at the office or out on the streets, playing Batman as Spike had sarcastically called it one night when he was exceptionally chatty. Meaning he grunted more than five words.

“My work is important.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m helping the… helpless.” God, he hated that stupid motto.

“Go help then.”

“When you’re well maybe you can come with me.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” The snort said ‘not bloody likely’.

“I know you’re bored. Maybe Cordelia can find you something to do.”

“Sorry. I don’t play with girls.” He turned away and Angel knew he was thinking of Drusilla again.

“Fine. Be bored. See if I care.”

But the thing was he did care. Spike seemed to be wasting emotionally away. When he wasn’t sleeping he’d sit and stare at nothing for hours, barely bothering to answer when spoken to. Angel would sometimes wake up to find him standing beside him in the dark but when he tried talking to him he’d only walk into the bedroom again. It was creepy and how odd was that, a vampire freaked out by another vampire?

Talking about the bedroom, he was getting pretty tired of sleeping on the couch. It was a good couch but it was no bed. He’d say his back was killing him if it didn’t sound so geriatric. Besides, he was the alpha male, right? He should be entitled to the better bunk. And this was his home. His home, his bed. It was just that Spike didn’t seem to feel comfortable anywhere else. He hardly ever left it, except to eat and take the occasional stroll around the apartment, running a finger along the walls and furniture as he passed them silently.

Of course he could just go in there, push Spike aside and slide into bed next to him. He’d spent hours standing or sitting by the bed, watching him tossing and turning in his sleep. He looked like he could use a couple of comforting arms. And he always seemed so cold, no matter how many blankets he had or how high Angel set the thermostat. Not that there was much warmth to be found in his potential embrace.

He sighed. Why the hell was it so hard to admit that what he really wanted to do was to lick the boy all over and hump his ass?

He looked up from his unread book as Spike entered the room, still wearing the same clothes he’d put on almost a week ago. They were starting to reek of sweaty nights and spilled blood but he didn’t know how to address that particular problem. Actually he didn’t know how to address Spike at all these days.

It used to be so easy. “William, get your arse over here.” “Will my boy, come to daddy.” “Spike, shut up.” Somehow none of those seemed to fit anymore.

Spike walked past him, not even glancing down. Blank eyes swept over the books on his shelves and the few but carefully selected objects on his walls. Angel was sure that if he asked him he wouldn’t be able to name one title or describe anything of what he was looking at.

This really couldn’t go on like this. He sighed, put the book aside and stood up.

“We’re going out. Go get changed.”

Spike stopped, hand hovering above a first edition of Emily Dickinson. “Where out?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Coffee, how does that sound?”

“Real coffee?”

“That was the idea, yes.”

There was silence for what seemed like an eternity.

“All right.”

He turned and walked into the bedroom. Angel listened and sighed in relief when he heard the bathroom door click shut. That had been easier than he’d anticipated. He tiptoed into the bedroom and swept the dirty clothes into a bag, then put the silk t-shirt and the leather pants on the bed before rummaging his closet for something suitable to wear.

What did humans wear when going out for coffee? Only time he’d ever had a date like that (not that this was a date, not at all) was with Buffy and she always dressed in next to nothing whether she was slaying or dating. In his days even the whores had covered themselves better. God, she made him feel old.

The sound of running water suddenly being turned off made him jump and he grabbed a pair of dark pants and a burgundy shirt then hurried out and changed with a speed that would have made Superman proud.

He stood casually studying the swords hanging on his wall while he listened to bare feet cross the short distance between the bathroom and the bedroom. There was silence and he wondered if maybe he should just bolt now but then he heard a low chuckle and his fingernails stopped their unconscious strive to pierce his palms.

“I’m ready.”

He turned around, Mr. Cool incarnated until the sight of Spike in leather and silk hit his groin and he had to fight the urge to cover his crotch.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing wrong. What could be wrong? Just have to get my coat.” The long one. Buttoning it even, that would be a good idea.

He strode to the closet, glancing quickly at Spike as he passed him and just about caught his backside before the long leather coat covered it. Oh yeah, worth every dollar and Cordy’s cleavage. Maybe he should give her a raise?

They strolled downtown in silence. Friday night and the streets were slowly filling up with people looking for something or someone to do. Angel kept an eye on Spike, but he only showed slight signs of discomfort when men came too close or were too loud to his liking. He kept close to Angel’s side though and he had to fight the urge to grab Spike’s hand or throw an arm over his shoulders. Not that anyone would have noticed, this was L.A. after all, but Spike certainly would and if he didn’t get snarled at for being overprotective he’d certainly be glared at for being presumptuous. Either way, Angel didn’t feel brave enough to risk it.

They settled for a quiet little café that played soft jazz and served coffee that made Cordelia’s mud seem like a bad dream. Spike opted for a slice of pecan pie and cappuccino while Angel chose a simple black Columbian. They found a table at the window, where Spike finally seemed to awaken and he stared out at the world passing by with curious interest. Angel wondered if the glass gave him some sense of protection or if being an outcast for so long had made him oblivious to anything except his own suffering until now.

Then again, maybe he was just listening to their heartbeats and imagining how their blood would taste running down his throat.

“So… good?”

Spike’s eyes followed a young woman with long black hair until she disappeared into a night club. Then he turned to Angel and frowned. “Of course not. Where have you been the last few days?”

“Erm… I meant the pie.”

Spike blinked. “Oh. Yeah, it’s nice.”

“But you’re right, we need to talk about… the other thing as well.”

“‘The other thing’ being my alcoholism and post traumatic stress disorder that are turning me into, and I quote, ‘a skeleton zombie who makes you look like Happy Gilmore’?”

Angel stared at him. “What?”

“I might be a zombie but I still have excellent hearing. Although I would have to be deaf not to hear Cordelia when she’s on a roll.”

“Oh. Yeah… she’s… well…”

“Whatever. I’m not drinking and I’m staying out of your way. I’m sorry if I’m not very chatty but hey, you can’t have everything. You’d rather I was raving like a lunatic?” He took another sip of coffee. “Just because I don’t do it out loud…”

“Why don’t you?”

“What? Are we sharing our feelings now?” Spike tilted his head. “Do you want me to hold your hand and tell you everything will be all right?”

Angel bit back the ‘yes, please’ that was on the tip of his tongue and went for an exasperated sigh instead. “I’m just saying, bottling it all up inside isn’t helping, is it? You’re obviously feeling bad and, I don’t know, talking about it might help.”

Spike shook out his last cigarette. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“That’s the thing, Spike, I do. I know you don’t believe me but I actually do care and I hate seeing…”

“… me like this. Yeah, you told me.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, not really.”

“Try me.”

“What?”

“Tell me something you don’t think I want to hear.”

Spike watched him for a moment then nodded. “All right. I dream about ripping people’s throat out and drinking their blood almost every night.”

“Yeah, me too. So what?”

He stared at him incredulous before shaking his head. “I would sell my coat for a glass of whiskey.”

Angel smiled. “I would sell my soul for a glass of decent human blood.”

Spike chuckled. “That could easily be arranged.” He mused then looked down. “Sometimes I wake up and think I’m still in there.”

Angel swallowed. “I keep dreaming I’m still in Hell.”

Spike froze.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“I never meant for that to happen.” Spike’s voice was hardly audible. “I honestly thought you’d beat her, that you were invincible. I just wanted my Dru back.”

“I guess I deserved it. Well, maybe not the hundreds of years in Hell but the blow to the head. Should probably have done it sooner. And I’m sorry about Dru, I really am. You’ll get her back though, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well who knows…?” But he didn’t sound convinced.

They sat in silence, sipping coffee and listening to the people around them sharing thoughts and heartbeats.

“I didn’t plan it. The first time. After I got out, I mean. I had been drunk for over three weeks, no feeding at all, and I was too weak to…” He paused and stared out the window. “At least they didn’t laugh.”

Angel sat still, watching the blank expression on his face.

“After they were done - there were three of them, I think – they threw me some dollars. Guilt, I guess. Whatever. Enough to get me a bottle of something decent and I thought… I thought, what does it matter anyway? Isn’t this what I was made for?” He turned to Angel. “What you made me for?”

Angel lowered his head and closed his eyes.

“Only thing was, the more I did it the more I had to drink to forget it and the more I drank, the more money I needed. So when one of them wanted to…” He turned and stared out the window again. “I actually did consider calling you when I came to. To say… goodbye. But then I passed out again and when I woke up it was night and the sun was gone and somehow staking myself instead was a lot harder. And by the next sunrise I was too drunk to care.”

“God, Spike…”

“Can’t remember much after that.” His brow furrowed in thought. “Think that was about a month before you came and got me. Could have been longer. Seemed longer.” He looked up. “How did you know I was there?”

Angel hesitated, his thoughts still in a shamble. “I didn’t really… I came to find Giles, to check up on how Buffy was doing and we found you passed out in his living room. So I decided to take you home with me.”

Spike lowered his eyes. “Oh.” He was silent for a moment. “Was a time you always knew where or how I was. Somehow I thought… Guess things change.”

“Some things. Others…” Angel paused. “The first years I did. Watch you, all of you. My family. Then I realised I could never go back no matter how much I wanted to and I… cut the cord. Could still feel you every now and then, if you were close enough. But through the years… You’d have to be pretty much in my backyard now for me to notice.” He ran his finger over the rim off the coffee cup. “I’m sorry, Will. You can’t believe how sorry I am. I should have known and I should have…”

The cold hand covering his made him look up. “It doesn’t matter, Angel. Forget it.” Spike’s voice was calm but Angel could feel the ever-present shivers running through his body, tickling the skin on the back of his hand.

He tried to find some words but the blue eyes seemed to have spellbound him and all he could do was stare into them, feeling Spike’s slender fingers trembling upon his hand.

“Angel?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“I think I’m…” Spike stopped.

“What?”

“I feel strange.”

Angel swallowed. “I know what you mean.”

“No, I mean I’m…”

His fingers curled, squeezing Angel’s hand tight, his face crunched up in pain. Angel was up and by his side, barely catching him before he tumbled over and to the floor. He politely declined offers of calling 911 and told the concerned staff that this happened all the time. They called him a cab and soon he was carrying Spike into the apartment and laying him gently on the bed.

Then finally he stood back and allowed the worry that he’d pushed back to emerge. This was not good. This was definitely not good. He thought Spike was getting better but obviously he was still very weak and he had a feeling he’d been hiding how bad he really was. The short walk seemed to have exhausted him and the emotional stress surely hadn’t helped.

He undressed him, trying not to look too much at certain parts. Maybe Cordelia was right about that underwear thing. After he’d tucked him in, piling enough blankets on top of him to suffice a small village, he put a bucket by the side of the bed. Just in case. He stood for a moment watching the still form, tuffs of blond hair peeking above the covers, before quietly walking out of the room.

He’d been asleep for maybe two hours when something woke him up. Blinking he looked up to find Spike standing beside the couch like so many times before. Except this time he was completely naked.

“Spike? Are you ok?”

He didn’t answer, just stood staring down at him, eyes glittering in the dark.

“Spike?”

“Why are you here?”

He frowned and propped himself up on his elbow. Which brought him considerably closer to Spike’s cock that hung heavy between his trembling legs. Not going there. Down boy. “What? You know why. Fighting evil and all that. Helping the hopeless.” Or was it helpless? He could never remember.

“No. Why are you _here_?”

“I don’t think I unders…”

“This sofa. Why are you on it?”

“Oh. Well…” He paused. Was it a philosophical question or was Spike simply gone off again? “Erm… Because I’m sleeping? Or trying to anyway.” Not that he would be able to sleep much now with the scent of Spike’s most intimate parts in his nostrils.

“There is a bed.”

“Erm… yes. I know. And you should be in it.” He forced his eyes away from the tantalising sight. “Spike, are you all right?”

Spike stood still, watching him intensely. Then he turned and walked back to the bedroom. Soon after Angel heard him get into bed again, pulling the dozen blankets over his body.

Still cotton-brained by the short sleep he lay down and tried to make sense of what had just happened. That had been… odd. Why had Spike…?

He blinked.

Oh.

Oh!

Suddenly he was wide-awake and he sat up, mind racing. Had Spike really…? But he thought… He wasn’t really himself anyway. He could have just been… But what if he hadn’t? What if he actually wanted Angel to…? Was that why he’d been watching him at nights? Had he been waiting for him to take that first step or show a sign of wanting him to take it?

Ok, but maybe he’d just meant that Angel should have the bed because after all it was his bed. Maybe he was feeling bad for taking it away from him, forcing him to sleep on the couch? Maybe he wanted them to swap?

Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted Angel to go in there, slip into bed with him and…

And what? Was he looking just for comfort, for someone to hold him or did he want something more. Like sex. And what kind of sex then? The way they used to do it, with pain and blood and the old master/slave thing? Or did he expect something different now since Angel had a soul and it had been so long and he wasn’t exactly a baby vamp anymore? Maybe he wanted a proper relationship of equality and tit for tat?

Could Angel do that? Did he _want_ it like that? And what exactly would equality involve? His ass clenched nervously. Better not think too deeply about that.

But if Spike wanted it the old way, which he wasn’t sure he wanted himself, he didn’t want Spike to think he had to do it. That he had to give him sex in return for living here. Been enough whoring on his part. Although the thought of Spike on his knees…

No! He shouldn’t. Spike wasn’t well. He probably hadn’t meant anything. Just doing his crazy vampire thing.

But what if he had? Meant it. What then? This was…

“I can hear you brooding all the way in here, you know.”

He physically jumped, unconsciously covering his erection that had been building steadfastly during his inner babble. “I’m not brooding!”

“Really? Smells like burnt rubber.”

Angel rolled his eyes and got up, making his way into the bedroom where he leaned against the doorframe, looking down at Spike who lay on his back, staring up at him with blank eyes.

“Ok, maybe I was… thinking.” He paused. “Did you…? Ok, this may sound stupid but do you want me to…?” Damn his throat was dry. “I mean, that whole couch/bed conversation, were you trying to tell me…” Fuck, why was this so hard? “Because I wouldn’t…”

“It’s a big bed.” Spike’s calm voice was in strange contrast to Angel’s nervous stutter.

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“It’s probably a lot more comfortable than that thing out there.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Well, yes.”

They stood still, the air seeming heavy with uncertainty. Then Spike averted his eyes and slowly bowed his head in submission.

“Please.”

The act made Angel catch his breath and for a moment he was shot back over a hundred years. He could feel Angelus tugging at his soul and he felt more conflicted than ever. He wanted to tell him ‘no, don’t’. He wanted to let his face slide and sniff him with golden eyes. He wanted to pull him into his arms and just hold him tight. He wanted to growl, to yell, to whisper soft words into his ear. He wanted… he wanted…

Slowly he walked over and slipped under the pile of blankets. He still wasn’t sure what they were doing or what Spike was looking for but then the cool body turned towards him and a slender arm slipped quietly over to settle on his chest and within seconds Spike was asleep, his soft breath brushing the tiny hairs in Angel’s ear.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Just as he was about to open his mouth and scream Spike jerked awake. He was breathing raggedly, sweat running down his back and his feet trembled with the need to run away. He turned over and instantly the sight of Angel’s peacefully sleeping face calmed him down. He moved closer, resting his cheek on Angel’s shoulder, arm sneaking across his chest, lightly in order not to wake him. Angel’s skin felt almost warm to the touch but he knew that was an illusion brought on by the sense of security he gave him.

He sighed. It was pathetic really. No, _he_ was pathetic. If he couldn’t feel Angel, wasn’t practically clinging to him like a baby monkey, that was enough to bring it all back. Nightmares of white rooms and needles, soldiers and laughter. And pain. Lots and lots of pain. He wasn’t sure how much he’d told Angel, those early days in his care were rather blurred in his memory, but he kept finding himself on the brink of shaking him awake and telling him everything, just to get it out there. Because locked inside his mind it seemed almost like a nightmare, like he was going mad with memories that couldn’t be real. It couldn’t have happened to him. Not him. He was Spike, William the Bloody, a Master vampire, a force to be feared across continents.

The thought made him laugh softly, a pained laughter that sounded horrid in his own ears. He was none of those things anymore. He was nothing. Wasn’t that what they kept telling him? Nothing, not even worthy of a name.

Spike. The name is Spike, he’d screamed at them but they didn’t hear him. Doctors in their long white coats, prodding and poking him like a lab rat. Cutting his skin, staking him with needles, frying his brain with bolts of electricity. Then soldiers in their heavy boots, smelling of earth as they pushed him to the floor. In his memory they were all huge and strong, standing side by side like a green brick wall, watching and waiting patiently for their turn.

Oh, he’d tried to fight back even when he knew his only reward would be swords of white pain skewered through his brain and more beating, more laughter. Harder, faster fucking that left him bleeding and shaking with pain. But in the end he’d stopped. He told himself he was saving his strength, waiting his moment but the truth was he’d just been too scared of the pain. That’s why he’d let himself be treated like that, like he was their property made for their pleasure, and that was what had followed him out when he finally managed to break free.

A vampire that was scared of pain, that was a laugh. A vampire that was scared of humans… Well, that was just pathetic.

Physically he was getting better, he knew that. His strength was slowly coming back and he could actually get through a few hours without feeling that thirst in his throat that sent stabs of hunger to his belly. Thirst for blood that didn’t taste like tar. Thirst for the warmth of a good drink heating his veins. He still felt cold but Angel had been right, the stronger he felt the less he shivered and the piercing ice was slowly leaving his bones.

Emotionally he still felt a wreck though. He was trying to move on, to put it all behind him but then Angel would walk in, smelling of his pet humans, watching him with that look in his eyes that said everything he’d never say out loud. Poor Spike, so broken. Better watch him in case he breaks down. So fragile, so weak, so helpless. It made him feel like he was just another of Angel’s projects, one of his steps on the highway to redemption. Like whatever else he thought he could detect in Angel's eyes was just his imagination. Because really, why would there be anything else?

He tried to remember what he was, who he was, but all it took was one of those looks, filled with pity and worry, and he was back in the dirt, kneeling in submission, fingers clawing at the dust for something to hold on to. Searching through the dark for something that would tell him he wasn’t lost, that he could come back. That he had still something left of himself, deep inside.

He knew Angel thought he was helping, thought he was giving him space or time or whatever bullshit he was sure Cordelia had told him Spike needed. He was in therapy and his shrink was a twenty year old cheerleader. Like she had any idea about anything. He didn’t need to be treated like a traumatised child. He needed to feel alive again. He needed to feel he was something, someone. He needed…

Angel snorted and rolled towards him, pulling Spike closer to his chest. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in Angel’s hair, inhaling the sweet scent of family. His cock stirred, sliding lazily against Angel’s thigh before settling down again. He sighed and rubbed his toes together in frustration.

At the moment he needed a decent snog and a good shag.

\---------------------

Angel sighed and stared up at the dark ceiling.

As much as the previous week had been frustrating this one had presented a whole new world of aggravation. The days were spent more or less the same. He worked on whatever cases came in, kicked demon ass when needed, listened to Cordelia prattle and Wesley stutter. Drank bad coffee and thought about Spike.

When work was over he went downstairs, each time grateful to discover that Spike was still there, silent and often lost in thought, sometimes not even noticing Angel’s return until an hour later. He still spent much of his time in the bedroom, reading random books from Angel’s shelves or just lying there, gazing at nothing. Angel kept trying to find a way to shake him out of this depression or whatever it was that was bothering him but somehow whenever he opened his mouth every single thing he could think of ended along the lines of ‘and why aren’t we having sex yet?’ and so he just closed it again.

As the seconds clicked by, one by one bringing them closer to bedtime, Angel found himself getting more and more jittery. Just the prospect of lying in bed next to Spike was enough to wake up little Liam and he fought a battle with him every night to get him to relax before he had to stand up and head into the bedroom. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes he made a quick stop in the bathroom before joining Spike who would only look at him blankly as if he didn’t know, didn’t smell it, didn’t hear the muffled sounds of flesh against flesh behind locked doors. Those were the times they would both lie awake for the longest time before finally giving in to exhaustion.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but it sure wasn’t this. Not that it wasn’t nice, cuddling. He was all for cuddling. Cuddling was great. Cuddling was, however, not sex.

At least when he slept on the couch he could give in to his urges if he wanted to. Get lost in old memories and new fantasies, ignoring the possibility of Spike being awake and listening. It wasn’t much but it was something. Something was far better than nothing, which was all he was getting lately.

Not that he wasn’t happy that Spike was feeling better. Obviously his presence had a positive effect (if not exactly the effect he had been hoping for) because Spike’s shivering had subsided considerably and the blankets had gone one by one until they now only had two to cover them. His sleep seemed calmer as well, his nights more seldom interrupted by muttering or flailing or the silent crying which Angel hated most of all.

As soon as Angel joined him in bed Spike would curl up against him, arm around his waist, head resting on the pillow, snuggled up to Angel’s neck and within minutes he was asleep. Which left Angel lying there, trying desperately not to let his hands wander or his cock wave. Not an easy task, especially since Spike seemed to have erotic dreams all the time judging by the way his cock stroke Angel’s thigh as it hardened to full length, leaving a trail of precum that tickled his skin almost as much as his nostrils.

Like now.  
  
He groaned and turned over on his side, which made Spike’s arm slip down to his waist where it settled limply, fingers dangling close enough to the tip of his erect cock that he could almost feel them tickle him. If he didn’t get an eternal place in Heaven for this something was seriously wrong in the world.

Spike’s breath was brushing his neck, making the short hairs on the back of his head stand up straight as his skin subtracted into tiny goose bumps. He sighed then tensed as something hard nudged his ass. Great. Just great. Another nudge and he felt close to crying with frustration. Not even Heaven was worth this kind of torture. He listened for signs of Spike being awake but he was still breathing evenly, falling back on human habits as the demon slept. Could he?

Slowly he reached down and ran the tip of his index finger along the length of his cock. God! He bit his lip, making sure not a sound escaped. Sticky precum was leaking from the slit and he caught it with his finger, smearing it over the half-exposed head. Then tugged the foreskin a little bit further down until he could encircle the crown with his thumb and forefinger. His other hand reached down and soon he was cupping his balls, rolling them around in the palm of his hand.

Spike snorted and snuggled closer, his hand slipping further down until it was resting on Angel’s hand, frozen around his cock. Fuck. He couldn’t move without moving Spike’s hand as well. Disappointed he let go, sliding his hand from under Spike’s. Not like he could have actually come anyway. Spike would have smelled it. Spike would have… closed his fist around his cock and kissed his neck! Shit!

“Spike?”

There was no answer.

“Spike, are you awake?”

No answer.

Now what was he supposed to do? He got a sleeping vampire having a wet dream and humping his body. Well, not really humping… Ok, now he was! He lay frozen as Spike’s cock slid repeatedly over his ass in a trail of precum, each movement making the way between his cheeks more and more accessible. The possibility made his stomach twist.

Spike’s hand was fisting Angel’s cock, his mouth wetting his neck with kisses and light sucking.

“Angel…”

The whisper was so low he could hardly hear it but it was enough to bring him over the edge and with a stifled grunt he came, spilling his release over Spike’s hand. Then he lay shivering, struggling to hold his breath until he felt Spike shudder and something wet covered his ass and thighs.

“So good, love.”

And with a sniffle Spike relaxed, his spent cock sticking to Angel’s backside.

Huh.

He hadn’t meant…? Had he? Confused Angel lay staring into the dark. Obviously they had to talk. Obviously. Just… what if he hadn’t meant it? Not like that. Spike said things like that to people – well, mainly girls - all the time. Except he hadn’t called Angel that in a very, very long time. Close to a century actually.

His thighs were sticking together, the whole room stinking of sex. That would make for a nice morning conversation. God, what was he going to tell Spike?

\--------

“I told you, Spike, I don’t know anything about this. I was asleep all night. Fighting evil makes you tired. Don’t blame your wet dreams on me.”

Spike gave him an incredulous look then waved his hand in front of his nose. “Not just my wet dream, pet.”

“Hey, you wanted us to sleep in the same bed. Vampires, remember? Dead people turn us on. Doesn’t take much to get things moving.” Angel straightened. “Actually I remember dreaming about some dead people. Yeah, that’s it. Some young virgin I killed in Vienna.” He nodded vigorously. “Big tits, great ass, lovely blood.”

Spike tilted his head, that annoying eyebrow twitching. “Is that so?”

This nodding was starting to feel ridiculous. “Yeah. Fucked her dead. Good times. Satisfied?”

Spike kept his gaze then a small smile tugged at his lips. “Seems that way, doesn’t it? Very well satisfied.” He got up and sauntered into the bathroom, leaving his strong scent of satisfaction in the air.

Angel groaned and sat down on the bed, hiding his face in his hands. This was ridiculous. Were they flirting? If they were why was he talking about tits? Why couldn’t he just grab Spike and tell him that yeah, that was his cum on his hand and it was about fucking time? Then push him down on the bed and put some more cum into better places? Hadn’t he been waiting for something like this to happen and then when it finally did he was all back in Denial land talking about dead girls and faking disinterest. Stupid, that’s what this was. Stupid and utterly frustrating.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’d taken advantage of me like some weak little girl. If you want I can move into the living room. Sleep on your sofa. Then it’s probably about time I found myself an own place. Can’t leech on you forever.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before looking up. Wet, naked Spike wearing only a small towel. Drops running from his curly hair and down his neck then trickling down his chest. Pale naked feet, naked calves, naked thighs. A cock clearly implied under the towel.

“Angel? I said…”

“I wasn’t asleep. I tried to move away but you…” He paused, eyes vacant. “You said my name.”

The silence was terrifying.

“So I thought… Actually I didn’t think. I just… came.”

He sensed Spike moving and then he was standing right in front of him. He could smell him, clean and tantalizing under the towel.

“Well, I dream a lot about you.”

He didn’t know how to answer that.

Spike shifted. “So me dreaming about you was enough to get you off?”

“That. And the humping.” He cringed.

“Humping?” Spike’s voice sounded hesitant.

“And your hand around my cock. And the kisses and sucks on my neck, they kinda helped.” He was blushing again! Great.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the problem?”

He blinked then his head snapped up in shock. “What?”

“I said, what’s the problem? Why are you being all idiotic ‘bout this? ‘S about bloody time if you ask me.”

“What?” Blinking really didn’t make things any clearer.

“Come on, Angel. I’ve been here for over almost two weeks and you haven’t even snogged me. Depressing really. And then when finally something happens, unconsciously but still, you act like it’s all bad.”

“Huh? Well…” He paused, not sure what to say.

Spike looked at him then pursed his lips and nodded. “I guess it is. Is it the soul or just me? Again.”

“You?”

“I know I’m not much of a man. Or a demon. Weak, drunken failure. This chip…” He rubbed his temple. “I‘m not much of anything anymore, am I? I get that.” He grabbed his jeans of the chair and turned away, pausing slightly in the doorway. “Still have a heart though, you know, even if it doesn’t beat.”

He walked out, leaving Angel to sit on the bed, trying to puzzle out what the hell just happened. One minute, two minutes and he was on his feet. Spike wasn’t in the living room, wasn’t in the kitchen. He ran up the twisted stairs, smack into Cordelia who was frowning at the coffee machine.

“Have you seen…?”

She dismissed him with a wave. “Wesley says there’s something wrong with my coffee. The machine must be broken or something. Looks fine though.”

“Wesley is a very brave man. Seen Spike?”

She snorted. “If I had he’d be over there in the corner along with the other dust.”

“Cordy, that’s not funny.” Actually it was quite terrifying. “When are you gonna stop acting like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. When he’s dead in the not-walking-around-potentially-killing-people sense?”

Angel sighed. “He can’t kill you, ok? And even if he could he wouldn’t.”

“Oh really.” She huffed and handed him a mug filled with brown liquid. “Try this. And why wouldn’t he?”

He paused before taking a small sip. “Because I care about you.”

She frowned. “You sure?”

“If I didn’t would I be drinking your coffee?” God, it really was horrible.

“No, I mean about him respecting your wishes? And, hey!”

“Might seem strange to you but vampires actually have some sense of honour. And… and he wouldn’t want to see me hurt.”

She sat back on the desk and gave him a thoughtful look. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You are in lo-ove.”

The coffee was even worse forcing its way down his lunges. He sputtered and wiped his chin. “What? No!”

“Yes, you are. You’ve got that whole puppy look on you.” She rolled her eyes. “Jeez, what is it with you and blondes?”

“I’m… I’m not… what do you mean ‘me and blondes’?”

“Buffy, Darla, Kate…”

“Kate? I never…!”

“Whatever. And now you’re going for peroxide. Some men are just so predictable.”

“Hey! Not a man! And not predictable. And I’m not in love!”

“Sure. That’s why you have I-wanna-kiss-Spike tattooed on your forehead.”

Unconsciously he reached up to stroke his forehead. In his line of work you never knew… He let his hand drop quickly when he saw the smirk on Cordy’s face.

“I’m not talking to you. I have to go find…”

“Your little love muffin?”

Hardly dignifying her with a glare he went back down. If Spike hadn’t gone up the only place he could have escaped to would be… oh, that stupid idiot.

The sewers were as stinky as ever but he could still detect Spike’s scent trailing through the dark. He followed it for a few blocks, cursing himself for spending so much time talking to Cordy.

In love! Chyeah, right. She just didn’t understand about the family bond between vampires. It was all about blood and belonging and had nothing to do with love. So yeah, he’d kinda loved Darla but that was different. And he still felt some kind of affection for Dru, mostly because of guilt though. And Spike… well, Spike was… Spike was…

He stopped, standing still in the dark sewers.

Crap.

Infuriated he started again, following the dwindling scent of his wayward childe. Ok, so maybe he was a teensy tiny bit smitten. The way Spike gazed at him with those big blue eyes, the way he bit his lips when lost in thought, the occasional touch of his fingers like he was just making sure Angel was still there. His slender limbs, the muttering in his sleep, the flicker of his tongue when he laughed.

Damn.

Count on Cordelia to know him better than he did himself.

He stopped and sniffed the air then looked up the ladder that lead to a pothole. Here we go. He ascended in a shadowed alley smelling of piss and booze. And a very faint scent of Spike. It lead him to a backdoor from which heavy music and laughter emanated. Great. A bar. Bet a thousand Spike was right now drinking himself to the same state it had taken him almost two weeks to get out of.

Angel pushed the door open, the overwhelming smell of smoke and alcohol hitting him in the face. It was dark inside; time obviously had no meaning here. It might as well have been the middle of the night as a little past noon. The place held a rowdy crowd, bikers, hookers and dubious loners. Drug dealers most likely. Spike probably thought it homey.

It took him a while to spot him. Mostly because he was currently disappearing behind a big leather clad biker, probably called Bubba, that was pushing him up against the wall, meaty hand around his throat. Shit. He couldn’t even let him out of his sight for five minutes and he was already sparking trouble.

“Fuck off. Yeah, that’s what I said. Get your bloody hands off me, you sodding half-brained wanker. Nnnhg.”

Spike doubled over as he was punched in the stomach. He managed to ward off the next one though but when he hit back his fist hardly touched the guy’s cheek before he was clutching his head, screaming out in agony. Then he crumbled to the floor in a heap of black leather and pain.

The thug managed a few extra punches and kicks before Angel got through the crowd and grabbed his shoulder, violently flinging him aside. He tumbled over a table and on to the floor, showered in beer and broken glass.

“Spike, you all right?”

There was no answer. Angel tipped up his chin and saw that even though his eyes were open they were rolled back in his head and his face was still rippling with pain. His fingers were clawing at his skull, leaving bloody scratches on his scalp. Fuck.

“Gonna get you out of here, ok? Hang in there.”

He stood up, only to be grabbed from behind and pulled down, the back of his head connecting with the thug’s knee. For a second he lay on his back, looking up at the beer stinking and bloodied biker but right before his head was smashed in by massive boots he managed to roll away and swiftly get to his feet.

“I’ll teach you, you fucking shit.”

The man stormed at him, hatred in his eyes. Angel moved easily aside so he ran straight into the wall, head first.

“Yeah? Let me tell you, you’re a lousy teacher.”

The biker shook his head and turned around, blood running from a cut on his brow. “You…” He stumbled forward, half blinded with blood and fury.

“What? Afraid to take on someone your own size?” He really hoped Spike hadn’t heard that. He was going to sulk about that remark forever. If they ever got out of here.

“I’ll show you who’s afraid, you fucking…”

“Haven’t got time for Show and Tell. Next time maybe.” He turned to Spike again, waiting until the very last moment to shoot out his elbow, which caught the biker straight in the face, and he went down like a light. “Anyone else craving a lesson?”

The rest of the crowd took a further step back and watched in silence as he helped Spike to his feet and half-carried him, half-supported him out into the alley. Once he had slammed shut the door behind them he lowered Spike to the ground and shook him gently.

“Spike?”

“’M not small.” The voice was gritted and Spike opened his eyes, trying to focus without much success. “Ponce.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s the head?”

Spike groaned. “Melon.”

“Melon?”

“Split fucking open.” He pushed the balls of his hands into his eye sockets and groaned again.

“Uhuh. Let’s get you home.”

It took them almost half an hour to stumble through the sewers with Spike stopping every other corner to throw up. When they finally got home he was panting, drenched in sweat and stinking of vomit and blood. Angel helped him into the bathroom where he stripped him out of his coat and t-shirt without a word and turned on the shower.

“Need any help?”

“’M fine.” He got to his feet but swayed and Angel only just caught him before he hit the floor.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He sat him back down on the toilet and started untying his boots. “How much did you drink?”

Spike shook his head in childish defiance. “Di-didn’t.”

“Spike, you stink of booze. How much did you drink?”

“One…”

“One drink?” Angel sighed. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“One bottle.” Spike muttered. “Whiskey. And some… Tequila.”

“Jesus, Spike! Don’t even know where you got money for that. You didn’t…” He scowled and pulled out his own wallet but everything was there as far as he could tell.

“No money. ‘S why they got a bit upset.” Spike giggled which only made him clutch his head again. “Fuck.”

“Stop whining. You deserve that headache.” Angel pulled off his boots and threw them to the side. “How the hell could you be so stupid? Do you have any idea what they could have done to you if I hadn’t gotten there?”

Spike looked up, his eyes dark. “A bloody good idea, yeah. Been there, done that, got the fucking nightmares, haven’t I?”

Angel faltered slightly. “Ok. So why did you do it?”

Spike closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head against the bath cabinet. “What does it matter? What the fuck do you care?”

“Stop playing the damn martyr. How many times do I have to tell you I do care?”

He started unbuttoning his jeans but Spike pushed him away. “’M not your project. I won’t count anyway.”

Angel frowned. “Count as what? You’re not making any sense.”

“On the scales. Your bloody atonement scales. I’m not even a pebble, you know? Saving me won’t save you. I’m evil, remember? You’re supposed to be killing me, not playing my bloody nurse.”

“Is that what you want?” Angel stared at him incredulous. “You want me to kill you?”

“I want you to tell me what the hell you’re planning, Angel! What the fuck am I doing here?” Spike pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. His voice shook as he glared at Angel with glittering eyes. “What am I supposed to do? What the fuck am I supposed to be? I’m nothing! Not a bloody thing. So what? What? Tell me!” He closed his eyes against the tears threatening to erupt. “Just tell me what the fuck I have to live for.”

Angel stood frozen, staring at the desperate man in front of him. Then before he had time to think it through he pushed him up against the wall and when Spike flung his eyes open in shock he crushed their lips together.

It was not quite how he had imagined their first kiss would be. For one thing he hadn’t planned on Spike tasting so horribly. A mix of blood, alcohol and vomit, tinted with the salty taste of tears. And in all his fantasies, which he reluctantly had to admit had been occupying most of his waking and sleeping hours the last two weeks, he kinda had counted on Spike staying conscious for more than five seconds.

When he felt the lean body suddenly go slack he first thought Spike had just lost his footing. He grabbed his shoulder to keep him upright but then his head lolled to the side and he only just managed to catch him before he hit the cold tiles.

Crap.

Angry with himself as much as Spike he stripped him off his jeans and unceremoniously dumped him in the tub. Then he turned on the detachable showerhead, temperature Cold-as-Hell, and aimed it straight at Spike’s head. First there was a violent shudder, then his eyes flickered open. The yelp that followed could have wakened the dead.

“Aaaaargh!! You fucking tosser!” Spike scrambled out of the bathtub as quickly as he could on slippery unsteady feet and fell to the bathroom floor in a heap of goosebumps and curses. “What the bloody buggering hell did you do that for? Fuck! Fucking sodding fu-fuck.” His teeth started clattering and he was trembling so hard his left foot kept banging against the bathtub.

Angel reached over and turned off the water, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Freshening, isn’t it?”

“Mad! Yo-you’re absolutely bo-bonkers!” Spike tried to stand up but slipped on the wet tiles and fell on his side with a loud thud.

“Ouch. That gotta hurt.”

“Not as much as this.” With a growl Spike launched himself at Angel’s leg, biting him through the thick cotton.

“Ow! Stop it! What the hell are you doing? Get off! Get off!”

He shook his leg vigorously but Spike hung on for dear life, fingers digging into Angel’s calf. Wasn’t until Angel banged his head against the side of the bathtub that he lost his hold and Angel grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. Blood was glistening on his lips, his eyes golden and feral.

“What the fucking hell is the matter with you? Have you totally lost it?”

Spike blinked and then slowly his face changed back to normal, bones and fangs sliding into hidden places. The golden colour faded from his eyes, leaving them blue but just as angry.

“You treat me like your bloody dog but don’t like to be bitten? That’s it? You’d rather I rolled over and licked your hand? Bared my belly for your tickles or kicks, whichever you feel like? Don’t think so, mate. Not your dog! Not your bloody dog!”

He pushed Angel away and got to his feet, still shivering from the cold. “Think it’s time I moved out of here. This… whatever this is, it isn’t working.” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist in anger.

“What? No!” Angel followed him out of the bathroom. “Spike, you can’t. If what happened today proves anything it’s just that. You can’t take care of yourself. The minute you’re out of here you’ll be drinking yourself to madness again.”

The thin t-shirt almost ripped as it was put on in a rage. “Fuck you, Angel! This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you anyway.”

Angel growled. “Stop blaming me for everything! I didn’t put that damn chip in your head…”

“Not that! This!” Spike gestured angrily at the bruises on his face and body. “You wanted to know why I did it? Two weeks ago I was content to drink myself to death because what else was there? And then I wake up here, with you, and everything changed. And I’m not talking about the bloody alcohol. I’m talking about having something to believe in, something that just might make it worth hanging on.”

Angel swallowed. “Spike…”

“Except there isn’t, is there?” He pulled on his stained jeans, only stumbling slightly. Then he straightened up slowly and tilted his head, eyes painfully resigned. “Pity, if that. That’s what I realised this morning. Whatever I had imagined, it wasn’t there. And just like that I was thrown back two weeks. So yeah, you did that. Or I did that, being stupid enough to believe that there was something… something…” He frowned and shook his head. “…anything.” A twitch rippled his face and he raised his hand, pressing the ball against his temple. “There’s…” He drew in a sharp breath. “Angel?”

Angel took a step closer. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s… Oh God!” He doubled over, clutching his head. “Stop it! Stop… Angel! Help me!”

“What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My head! My head, you bloody idiot. Why’d you think I’m… Oh God!” He gulped in air. “I think it’s exploding. Jesus!”

Angel frowned. “You didn’t drink that much did you? Did that guy kick your head in? Do you think…?”

Spike glared up at him. “Bugger it, Angel, are you trying to blabber my head off?” He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. “God!”

“Don’t think He’s going to help.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re turning awfully religious.”

“Angel!”

“Sorry. Maybe it’s a combination of everything. The booze, the hitting, the cold water...”

“Your fault!” Spike’s voice was turning shriek.

“The yelling! I bet that’s not helping.”

“Stop talking! Do something! God! Oh God!”

Angel growled with frustration then did the only thing he could think of. Only when Spike was lying knocked out on the floor did he realise that maybe another blow to the head wasn’t quite what he needed. Well, at least it stopped all the screaming.

He hauled Spike up by his arms and started dragging him into bed, then changed his mind and hauled him back into the bathroom and propped him up against the wall. He squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste on his toothbrush, tipped Spike’s head back and went to work. When he was satisfied that every single trace of disgusting taste had been washed out of Spike’s mouth he lifted him up and carried him into the bedroom, dumping him on the bed. Then he stood back and looked down at Spike’s unconscious body.

Well, if he’d get another chance at that kiss at least this time it would taste good.

Talking about taste…

As he pulled a bag of blood out of the fridge and poured its contents into a mug he contemplated his next move. There was a chance Spike’s chip was acting up which would be a problem. On the other hand chances were he was just having a kick-ass hangover after two weeks of sobriety.

He drank his meal slowly, savouring each sip. It wasn’t exactly ambrosia but it was food and being able to keep regular meals was something he had come to appreciate these last years. With a sigh he realised exhaustion had crept in on him. He had a hard time getting used to what Cordelia called normal office hours. Daylight made him sleepy no matter how much he rested during the night. Which he didn’t really. Half the night he was out on the streets, saving those he could. The other half he tossed and turned in his bed grieving for those he couldn’t.

Pulling the sweater over his head he strolled back into the bedroom. Spike was still out cold and probably would be for hours. He had hit him pretty hard and the alcohol in his body would keep him subdued as well. Which did offer a quite tempting opportunity.

Hesitantly he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and lay down on the bed, pulling the covers over both of them. He shouldn’t. It seemed deceiving for some reason. He looked over at Spike’s slack face. His hair had dried into his much hated curls around his face, making him look as innocent as the day he was turned. Briefly he wondered if Spike would wear glasses for him if he asked him to. Then shook his head, disturbed by his own thoughts. The past wasn’t supposed to carry happy memories, only bad ones. Still…

He reached down, eyes never leaving Spike’s face. No. Not Spike. William. William’s face. William with his big hurt eyes. William with his shocked expression as he realised what exactly was expected of him as the youngest of the family. William who gasped and cried and whimpered in pain until he finally let it wash over him and with wide eyes allowed the pleasure to sink in. William who clung to him, sobbing his name as he came, riding the waves of orgasm for what seemed like forever.

William…

With a muffled groan he came, his fist tight as a virgin around his cock, his mouth tingling with the ghost of William’s taste, his eyes still locked on the object of his fantasy. He wiped his fingers on the sheets then rolled over on his side in exhaustion, pulling Spike close to his body without a second thought. Within minutes he was in deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

For the second time in as many days Spike woke up wrinkling his nose, the faint smell telling him exactly what had been going on. He lay still, weighed down by Angel’s arm around his waist and his own thoughts in his head. His head that was still hurting but it was a dull familiar ache of a night spent drinking and fighting. Which was a pretty good description of what had taken place but usually it didn’t leave him with such a heavy heart.

Angel mumbled beside him, drawing him closer and snoring into his ear. He turned his head and glanced at him. How come that awake they were as strangers but as soon as they were asleep things went back to what they had been all those years ago? What he had to admit he had been hoping they would get back to, to some extent at least. He could do without the flogging and constant shoe polishing though. And the belittling way Angelus would say his name, William, like he was still the pathetic poet he had gladly left behind that faithful night.

_“What’s that, Will-iam? Did you say you’d had enough, Will-iam?”_

_“The name is Spike.” Spitting blood on the dirty ground. “And we’ve only just started, you old fart.”_

He growled quietly as he remembered what had happened next. A growl that turned into a sigh as the memory unfolded further. Fight and shag. Their relationship in short. It was just that he was tired of it. He didn’t want to fight anymore, not like this anyway. And he didn’t want to feel like this either. So… small and useless. Worthless.

And constantly horny.

Angel shifted beside him and he sighed again as he felt something hard press against him. It couldn’t go on like this anymore. When were they going to do something about this? When he was awake and sober enough to enjoy it that was.

He frowned. Had there been a kiss? He thought he remembered Angel’s lips on his but it was a blurred memory that might possibly have been a dream. Why would Angel have kissed him anyway? Hadn’t he made it clear enough that he wasn’t wanted that way? Except…

Sodding hell. This was all so confusing.

Irritated he slipped from Angel’s embrace and got out of bed. Huh. He was still wearing the clothes from yesterday. They clung to his body in a mix of sweat and substances he’d rather not think about. He felt filthy but for some reason his breath was minty fresh.

Frowning he pulled off his clothes and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping under the spray as soon as it was hot enough. The water felt good against his skin and he closed his eyes and let it rain over his face. Odd that after all these years he still craved warmth like a child craves its mother’s embrace.

He took his time lathering his hair and body with expensive soaps and shampoos. Not that he would ever admit it to his face but Angel always smelled so nice. The poof would rather spend money on froofy hair products and girly moisturisers than decent blood. Like his guilt wouldn’t allow him to enjoy his meals so he took his pleasures in the shower instead.

And didn’t that just bring up disturbing images.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles. Angel must have spilled enough to fill the bloody bathtub by now with all his hurried retreats to the bathroom, eyes shifting as he tried to walk normally despite the rock hard erection in his trousers. Masturbating alone and quietly like the good little Catholic boy he was when there was a ready and willing body waiting in bed for him.

Of course Spike hadn’t really told him he was ready and willing. Hadn’t even done any of his usual flirting or straight out humping either. He wasn’t quite sure why.

It wasn’t what had happened, he was pretty sure of that now. It hadn’t been pleasant but that part was behind him or at least it would be if Angel would ever allow him to move forward. As it was his worried puppy eyes and hesitant touches only served to remind him again and again of what Angel considered him to be. A victim.

He still had nightmares. He still felt jittery about being around humans but that was just it. They were humans. Just knowing that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against the weakest little child kicking his leg was terrifying.

Angel… Angel he could handle. Angel made him feel safe. Not that their lovemaking had ever been violins and roses but even during their roughest fucking he’d known that if he really wanted to he would be able to fight back. Probably not win but still…

Pain had been a natural part of their pleasure. There had been times though that Angelus had been careful and loving, mostly when the girls were away and he was free from Darla’s ever watching eyes. Times when he taught young Will exactly what pleasures he had been missing his human years as a blushing Victorian virgin.

Then again there had been times when he’d taken out his anger or feral lust on Will, chained him up and whipped him then fucked him until he passed out from the pain. And still, his torture had never filled Spike with such fear as those humans had done. Angelus’ anger and cruelty was a part of his vampire life and he’d long ago accepted it as such. Just breathe through it and move on. Or better yet, learn to enjoy it.

That didn’t work with this fear.

And just feeling fear for humans was so humiliating. More humiliating than having his young poetic heart stamped on by Cecily or having Drusilla’s infidelity thrown in his face. It made him feel pathetic and weak. Like the little boy hiding from his father’s heavy hand all those lifetimes ago. Made him feel like he was nothing. No one.

That was partly why he hadn’t been able to shake himself awake from this emotional nightmare. The hopelessness of his situation was weighing him down, breaking his spirit until it crumbled and withered and all that was left was this fear. Fear of beings far below him, fear of life, fear of being alone. And at the same time hating himself for his weakness, for his dependency upon Angel.

And if he took that first step, if he allowed himself to admit his need to Angel, wouldn’t that just be another nail in his coffin, another chain to link him to Angel’s heel? What would he have left then?

On the other hand if Angel came to him, if he admitted he needed Spike, wanted him, even loved him, then everything would be different. He would be able to keep that last thread of dignity and being needed would give him a purpose, a kind of power which he needed desperately.

Question was how long was he willing to wait for that to happen? Because as things were now he was too close to just giving in and throwing himself at Angel’s feet.

“You’re using up all the hot water.”

Spike swung around, too late realising what effect his musings had had on him. He wasn’t sure who felt more embarrassed.

Irritated he growled and turned off the water. “Yeah well, takes time to wash all that cum off.”

Angel squirmed. “About that…”

“Yes?” Spike gave him a sarcastic look.

“Well…” Squirm, squirm.

“You know what, Angel? Forget it. I get it now.” He wrapped a towel around his waist and stalked out of the bathroom.

“What? Get what?” Angel hurried after him. “Spike, wait.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious, innit?” He leaned against the wall, watching the uncertainty play upon Angel’s face. “You like getting off to the idea of me. Or my body, whatever. What you don’t like is the actual _me_ ‘cause… well, I’m dirty, used. The humans’ leftovers. And let’s not forget evil, your Souled Highness. Way beneath you, right?”

“No! Spike, no that’s not…”

“Shut up.” He grabbed the leather pants out of the closet, dropped the towel and pulled them on. “That’s why you keep running into the bathroom. So you can jerk off to whatever fantasy I’m playing in without having to remember who I actually am. Is it William? Is that who you see? Innocent little William, worshiping the dirt you step in?”

He nodded as Angel averted his eyes in embarrassment. “Yeah, thought so. Gave you a little thrill didn’t it, hitting me last night? Reminded you off the good old days. And since I was all knocked out you could for once get off with me in the room. ‘Cause again, that wasn’t me, just my body. See, I know you, Sire.”

“Spike, it wasn’t like that.”

“No? Tell me that when you fucked your own fist last night you were thinking of me. _This_ me.”

He sighed. “Ok, no. I was thinking of William. But that was one time! And the reason I jerk off in the shower isn’t that I don’t want to look at you. It’s because I thought you didn’t want to look at me, all right?”

Spike blinked. “What the bloody hell are you going on about? You’re not that ugly.”

“Funny. This is what I get for trying to be considered of _your_ feelings. I mean, do you really think I dare to even dream of doing anything after what…”

The blow caught him completely unaware and he staggered back in shock, blood dripping from a cut in his lip. “What the fucking hell did you do that for?”

“I’m not a bloody victim! I’m not weak! Don’t you fucking pity me! I don’t want your pity!”

“Spike…”

“No. Now you listen, you stupid shit. Don’t make me what they did! If you do, if you bloody well do, you’re no better than them. To them I was a nobody, a weakling, a fucking victim. Not me. I was never me. I’m me, Angel! Me! Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you bloody well see **me**?”

He was heaving for breath, hands clenched into fists by his side, his whole body trembling with anger and desperation. Angel stood frozen, staring at him with what almost looked like fear in his eyes. Then he took one step forward, hesitantly like he thought Spike might back away. He didn’t move, just stood there defiantly, daring Angel to take that final step. One second, two seconds…

This kiss had everything the other lacked. Passion, lust, relief, hope… minty flavour.

Now the decision had finally been made Angel threw himself into it with all the passion he’d been suppressing for the last two weeks. He crushed his lips against Spike’s, one hand grabbing his neck, the other arm pulling him in tight around the waist. At the first moan he pushed his tongue inside, fucking Spike’s mouth vigorously, a growl emanating from his chest. He advanced until he had Spike pinned up against the wall, grinding his thigh into his hard erection, gasping when he felt Spike whimper into his mouth.

“Want you. Want you so damn much.” He was growling, leaving a trail of kisses and blunt bites along Spike’s neck as he worked on loosening the buttons on the leather pants.

“God, yes.” Spike let his head fall back, closing his eyes. “Take me. Just fucking take me.”

“I will. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about them.” He dropped down on his knees, nuzzling into Spike’s crotch. “Mine! You’re mine! Damn them for ever touching you.”

Spike gasped, fingernails digging into Angel’s shoulders. “Never again. You promise me.”

“Never.” Angel looked up, eyes dark with anger and lust. “Never, Will. I’ll kill anyone who so much as even looks at you.”

Spike gazed down at him and then a smile spread across his face. “Gotta kill a lot of ‘em then. Cos I’m fucking gorgeous.”

The darkness left Angel’s face and he laughed and rose to his feet, crushing him to his chest. “You fucking are.”

They tumbled unto the bed, Angel pulling Spike down on top of him. They kissed like long-time lovers, sharing a smile on their lips and a laugh in their mouths. All the tension of the last fortnight evaporated and left them feeling high on relief and hope.

Soon their laughter turned into moans as fingers found their way to naked flesh, lips and tongues tracing blue veins. Angel’s touches felt like fire on Spike’s skin, making his nerves stand on edge, making every tiny hair act as an antenna to Angel’s lust. Drinking it in, feeling it in every bone of his body. Drowning in it.

Angel rolled them over, crushing Spike beneath him. Spike was fighting with the buttons on Angel’s shirt, swearing and growling and finally ripping it apart. He attacked Angel with his mouth, sucking and biting his chest and nipples, fingers digging into his back as Angel grinded their erections together. Spike closed his eyes, his fingernails leaving a bruising trail up Angel’s smooth back as he moved down, licking his way down Spike’s chest, swirling his tongue in his belly button. Spike wriggled his arse to help Angel pull his leather trousers off, smiling when his cock hit Angel hard on the chin.

Angel gave him a glare then sucked his cock swiftly down his throat. All amusement left Spike’s mind and he arched off the bed, biting his lip hard. He grabbed the iron railings of the headboard, his arms trembling. He tried to push in deeper but Angel held down his hips, keeping him still. He was working him enthusiastically, licking and sucking and kissing what he had been coveting for so long.

“Angel! Fuck!”

“Soon.”

He sat up and grabbed Spike by the neck, fucking his mouth with his tongue before letting him go and moving down again, pushing up his knees and parting them roughly. He spared Spike a glance but there was nothing in his eyes but pure lust and need and satisfied he leaned down and pushed his tongue in as far and fast as he could without any warning.

“Jesus!”

Angel chuckled and thrust in again and again, arms wrapped around Spike’s knees as he writhed and whimpered.

“Angel! Oh god… Please!” Spike tried to push down, pulling him further in. “Need more. Need you. Jesus, Angel! Just fuck me, will ya!”

He pulled away looking up at Spike’s flushed face, lips bruised, eyes dark and sparkling. With a final lick he sat up, spit in the palm of his hand and coated his cock.

“I don’t have any…”

“Just do it.”

“I don’t want to…”

“Angel.” His voice was a mix of reprimand and desperation.

He nodded and positioned himself at Spike’s entrance, grabbed his legs and lifted him until they were perfectly lined up. Then he looked up, eyes locked with Spike’s and slowly pushed inside.

It was an experience in itself watching the emotions play upon Spike’s face. His eyes alone showed such turmoil of feelings that Angel thought he could read their whole history just by watching them. Lust, hope, fear, defiance, surrender, pain and then exquisite pleasure making the pupils widen until they merely left a thin rind of blue.

“Okay?”

“Ye-eah. Just…” Spike closed his eyes, breathing deeply, fingers twitching where they lay by his sides. “Been… so long.” He opened his eyes slowly, blinking. “Too bloody long, Angel.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Be.” He sucked in another breath. “Just… make me feel it.”

Angel swallowed and nodded. Then he slowly pulled out before sliding back inside. His arms were trembling and he could hardly keep himself up. Jesus! He’d forgotten how good it was. Feeling every muscle squeeze him, the cool inside of Spike’s body heating up slowly by the friction he was providing. Slick on spit and precum, so tight he could hardly move. He used slow deep thrusts, easing Spike open until he could feel the tight hold reluctantly give away.

Although there were times they had taken it slowly, making love with the leisure of a dark winter night in front of the fire, he couldn’t remember it being like this. That had been play; this… he thought that this might be love. Because although Angelus had in a way loved his family, young Will especially, it was a love of possession, of power. They belonged to him. His property, his clan.

What he felt now was quite different. A vulnerable love, unsure and brittle. What if he lost him again? What if they couldn’t make it work? What if…

A kiss brought him out of his musings and he blinked, looking down at bright blue eyes that glittered with suppressed need. “Angel, love. I’m okay.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“No.” He pulled him down until he was lying on top of him, noses hardly an inch apart. “This is nice and everything but right now I’d like some proper rogering.” He bucked, forcing Angel’s cock further inside him, making them both hitch their breaths. “Want you to fuck me.” He thrust up again, emphasising each word. “Hard. Fast. Fuck my bloody brains out, Angel.”

Angel only hesitated a second and then he pulled out and slammed in so hard Spike cried out in surprise.

“Like this?” He couldn’t help grinning although the sensation was almost enough to bring him over.

“Oh god. Yeah! Oh fuck yeah.”

Spike clung to him, wrapping his legs around his waist, his body lifting off the bed with every thrust. Harder and faster, sweat running down Angel’s chest and pooling on Spike’s belly. The slapping of flesh against flesh and their ragged breathing were the only sounds to be heard, occasionally interrupted by a groan or a whimper.

Suddenly Angel pulled out and grabbed Spike’s neck, kissing him hard. His eyes were dark, voice husky. “Ride me.”

Spike was gasping for breath, eyes dilated. He nodded and sat up, chest heaving. Angel rolled over and lay down, cock standing proud and eager as Spike straddled him, thighs shivering as he raised himself up. He had to steady himself, one hand gripping the railing, the other flat on Angel’s chest.

“Let me.”

Angel’s hand felt almost warm on his hip, holding him still as the other was pulling down the foreskin on his cock, positioning the tip against Spike’s entrance. He closed his eyes when he felt it nudging him. One breath, two breaths… then he slammed down, spearing himself on Angel’s cock.

God, it was good!

He started slowly, eyes closed as he rode him. Angel followed and they moved lazily, like ocean waves, rising and falling. Spike’s thighs pressed into Angel’s side, slick with sweat. Then he gradually picked up the pace, going faster and faster until his arse was slapping down on Angel’s hips, moans turning into grunts.

For once he was in control, conducting the pace to his own rhythm. It left him with an incredible feeling of power, knowing he held Angel’s pleasure and potential release in his hand… or inside his arse to be exact. The thought was exhilarating. And quite funny.

He opened his eyes and laughed softly. Angel was staring up at him, mouth slightly open as if in awe.

“What?”

“You are so beautiful. God! I can’t believe we haven’t done this until now.”

“Oh, so you’re just after me for my looks then.”

“No! You know that’s not…” He stopped, taking in the amused look on Spike’s face. “Don’t play with me. It’s not funny.”

Spike grinned but sobered up when he realised he was serious.

“Hey. I’m supposed to be the anxious one, remember? You’re the big strong hero. Helping the hopeless. By shagging them.” He leaned over and kissed him. “Well, me. No shagging others no matter how hopeless they are.”

Angel smiled. “I’ll try keep my pants on.”

“You better.”

Spike kissed him hard, running his tongue over his palate, licking his tongue then sucking it into his mouth. Swallowing Angel’s desperate moan. Then he sat back and picked up the pace again, faster and harder, riding Angel until he saw stars before his eyes and tasted blood on his tongue.

Angel watched him with hazy eyes, fingers digging into his hips, feet planted on the bed as he met Spike’s every movement with hard thrusts. When he felt Spike starting to clench around him, eyes widening, he reached between them and wrapped his fingers around Spike’s cock, stroking it hard and fast. That was all Spike needed and with a yell he came, head thrown back, squeezing Angel’s cock inside him as he spilled over his hand. Angel gasped and gave into the orgasm he had been holding back, the clenching around his cock milking every drop out of him. When Spike slumped on top of him he wrapped his arms around him, hugging him so tight he could hear his bones creak.

They lay still, failing miserably at stopping their breathing, nuzzling into each other necks like cats. Angel shivered as he felt a soft tongue licking his collarbone then moving up to his jugular. When he heard the bones shift he merely closed his eyes and moved one hand up from Spike’s back to stroke his hair as he slid his fangs in and suckled slowly from the tiny wound. Just a few sips then he licked the wound closed and settled on Angel’s chest.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For seeing me.”

Before he could find the words to answer Spike was asleep in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a while before the annoying sound penetrating his sleep registered and he cursed, carefully detangling himself from Spike who lay spread-eagled on top of him. This better be important. He pulled on some jeans, ran his fingers a few times through his damp hair then peeked warily around the corner into the living room.

“There you are. Jeez, how much sex did you just have? You look absolutely glowing. Must be all the sweat.”

“Cordy.” Damn, he was blushing again. “Why are you here?” He could feel flakes of dried cum drizzling from his stomach and with relief spotted a t-shirt flung over the couch. When did he become so sloppy? Oh, right.

“Vision. Remember those? Splitting my head so you can save people?”

“Ok, ok.” He pulled the t-shirt over his head. “Who, what, where?”

“Me. Ow. Head.” She pointed to her temple, raising her eyebrows.

“Sorry.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly, painfully aware his fingers smelled like a brothel. Thank God for weak human senses. “So… vision?”

She rolled her eyes, then winced as it only made her head hurt more. “Some teenagers down by the pier. And a blue demon with horns and Batman wings.”

He pulled on his shoes. “Batman doesn’t have wings.”

“Whatever. There’s some icky ritual, sacrifice thingy. So you better hurry.”

“Ok, ok.” He grabbed his leather coat then paused, shooting a glance toward the bedroom.

“Relax. With the pounding you gave him he won’t wake up for hours.”

“Cordy!” Stop blushing, you moron!

“Well, it’s true. Next time call me and tell me not to come in for work, ok?”

“We didn’t exactly plan…”

“Of course not.” She suppressed a grin. “Look, if he wakes up I’ll tell him where you went.”

He looked at her incredulous. “You? You are going to talk to the ‘blond menace’?”

“Hey! If he can put up with your broody self he can’t be that bad. Plus I’ll bring my holy water spray bottle.”

“You can’t…”

“Go!”

He growled and pulled on his coat, heading for the door. She was probably right. Spike hadn’t even noticed him leaving the bed. He’d be out for a good time longer.

\-------

He wasn’t sure what woke him up but most likely it was nothing. No sound, no movement, no broody vampire lying beside him on the bed. He blinked and reached out for the empty space beside him. The heaviness that had evaporated started to seep back into his heart. He’d left? He’d just gone and left him without a word?

Slowly he sat up and looked around. Everything looked normal. It was like nothing had happened and if it hadn’t been for the delicious ache in his arse he might have thought it was all just a dream. He swung his feet over the edge and stood up. His belly was sticky with half-dried cum and he could feel more leaking down the inside of his thighs. Definitely not a dream.

He suddenly felt filthy, way beyond the sweat and cum on his skin, and headed for the shower. He made it quick, washing with unfeeling hands away all evidence of their fucking, because that was clearly all it had been. Why else would he have left him like that? Probably woke up and looked over and thought ‘Shit, how drunk was I last night?’ Except he hadn’t been. Not at all.

And here he’d thought they were…

He growled, cursing himself for being such a girl. Maybe Angel had just been called away on business and hadn’t wanted to wake him. Or maybe he’d needed some time alone to think of what they should do next, how to break the news to his human friends.

_Yeah, and maybe he’s gone out to buy flowers and chocolate. Stop being such a bloody idiot. He’s done a runner, that’s all. Freaked out and slinked off, hoping you’ll take a hint and be gone by the time he gets back._

Well, he wasn’t going to let him off that easily. This was the new age, after all. The silent broody type was way out of fashion. Now men talked about their feelings, analyzed them, came to a conclusion. And so they would. With the help of a crowbar and chains if he had to.

He dried off quickly, the anger growing inside him with every minute. He cursed and voiced aloud all the horrible torture he would inflict on his bastard of a sire, inwardly pathetically hoping he was wrong and begging ‘Please, Angel I’ll do anything if you just…’ Slamming his fist into the wall as he realised what he was doing. Stupid fuck.

He pulled on his clothes, leather pants still damp with desire, t-shirt smelling of Angel’s kisses. Fuck. Fuck him, fuck him to Hell.

By the time he was fully dressed, scruffy boots on his feet, ever-loyal leather coat wrapped around him, he was raging.

_I’ll show him. I’ll fucking show him that lying bastard. I’ll find him and flog him and fucking kill him for doing this to me. And then I’ll cry over his stupid dust if he’ll just come back to me._

He stormed up the twisted stairs, cursing and muttering his rage. Punched his knuckles raw in a sudden explosion of frustration, the blood bringing out his demon visage as he licked it away.

“Bloody well gonna kill you for this. Gonna rip your fucking throat out, you fucking poof. Just you wait till I…”

The blow caught him completely unaware and he fell to his knees, ears ringing in confusion. “What the bloody hell…?”

He stumbled to his feet, vision blinded by the pain, only to be hit on the back of his head with such force he flew across the room, landing on the desk, the edge cutting into his belly. Someone was coming up behind him and he lashed out, only to have his brain speared by white-glowing pain.

Through the haze of agony he could smell human anger, fear and a hint of arousal. Oh god.

_No. Angel, please. I can’t do this again._

When his arm was twisted behind his back he closed his mind and disappeared.

\--------

“Wesley! What the hell are you doing? Get away from him!” Cordelia dropped the box of donuts and stalked towards him, her high heels clicking on the linoleum.

“Cordelia, stay back. Or better yet, hand me that stake.”

“Are you insane? I’m not letting you kill Angel’s boyfriend!”

Wesley scowled, twisting Spike’s arm further. “Cordelia, he’s obviously gone bad. I could hear him raving all the way up the stairs that he was going to kill Angel. Rip his throat out for God’s sake!” He paused and frowned. “Boyfriend?”

“Well, duh. Of course he did. How would you feel if you finally did the whoopee after pining for that big lump for years and years and then he splits? He was probably feeling all abandoned and unloved. Poor thing.” She pushed Wesley away unceremoniously. “Spike?”

“Cordelia! Be careful, he might…” He stopped as Spike’s limp body slumped off the desk and landed in a heap on the floor.

“What? Do what? He’s out. Spike?” She waved her hand in front of his blank open eyes. “Jesus! What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t hit him that hard. Well, not for a vampire. He was fine just a moment ago.” Wesley poked him with the toe of his boots. “What do you mean ‘whoopee’?”

“Wesley! Focus! Angel is so gonna kill you. Help me get him back downstairs.”

They dragged Spike into the elevator and Cordelia pushed the down button, scowling at Wesley who still looked utterly confused.

“You’re saying Angel and Spike are…?”

“God, you’re so slow! Where have you been the last two weeks? Did you not see the sexually frustrated vampire brooding away in his office?”

“But…” He blinked. “What about Buffy?”

“What about her? Is she here? Are they ever going to be happy together? Does he have anything to offer her beside mutual masturbation and moonlight beach walks?”

“Well, no. But…”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t love her anymore. Angel’s such a hopeless romantic. He thinks she’s this sweet little innocent girl, the princess of his fairytale. Nice dream. But when you get a hot little vampire thrown in your lap you don’t exactly say ‘no thanks, I’m busy whining about this girl I can’t have’. They did teach you about vampire relationships at the Academy, didn’t they?”

“Erm… well… So they’re just…?”

“Bonking? Well, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? Some harmless sex to make him loosen up a little. But no. Not our Angel. He has to feel something, has to have a reason for everything. And so he’s in love again. Or still, because personally I think he’s loved this little guy since they were both evil and prancing around in silk stockings.”

Wesley sighed as he dragged Spike out of the elevator and hauled him up on the couch. “Cordelia, I think you’ve been reading too much Anne Rice. Vampires have no souls. Until Angel was cursed he would have been incapable of loving anything. And Spike… well, it’s just not possible.”

“And I think you are a pompous ass who’s been reading too much Watcher bullshit. What do they know? You only have to look at them and it’s obvious.” She stood back and looked down at Spike. “And you are so dead. If you’re lucky Angel won’t be back until we’ve managed to revive him and…”

The sound of a key in the lock cut her short.

“What are you…?” Angel stopped, staring at Spike’s blank face, flaring his nostrils at the smell of blood emanating from the wound on the back of his head. “What the fuck did you do?”

Wesley backed away, dragging Cordelia with him. “Now, see here. I thought he was planning to kill you and…”

“He didn’t hit him that hard. I mean, we’re talking about Wesley. I don’t know why…” She closed her mouth at the glare Angel sent her. “Oh.”

Wesley frowned. “What? I don’t understand…”

“No, of course not. You can’t think of a single reason why being beaten up by humans might do this to him. Especially if they smell like you right now.” He lowered his eyes to Wesley’s groin before looking back up at him, eyes glowing. “Get out.”

Wesley staggered back, blushing red. “I’m not… I didn’t think…”

“No. You didn’t. Because to you he’s just a vampire. Fit to meet the end of your stake.” He paused. “Whichever one you choose.”

“No!”

“Out. Now.”

He turned his back on them and picked Spike up, carrying him into the bedroom, leaving them standing in awkward embarrassment.

Then Cordelia glanced up at Wesley. “Well, that went fairly well. You’re still alive and there’s not a stake sticking out of your ass. I say we run before he changes his mind.”

Wesley nodded hastily and they hurried up the stairs.

\----------

“Spike? Wake up. Spike? Come on. Don’t do this.”

The voice sounded weak and far away but somehow it still managed to penetrate his state of nothingness. Slowly he became aware of his head hurting, again, and a palm resting against his cheek. With a pained effort he brought his vision into focus, staring into dark brown eyes watching him with worry.

“Angel?”

“Finally! I thought you were going to sleep forever.” The tone contradicted the flippant words, the hard kiss pressing against his lips even more.

“What happened?” He frowned, remembering scents of… He sat up in horror. “No!”

“Nothing. Nothing happened, ok? Except Wesley hit you with a baseball bat or something.”

“I thought… I couldn’t…” He started trembling. “He was going to…”

“Spike, not everyone is after your ass, no matter how delicious it is.”

Angry he shook loose from Angel’s embrace. “Don’t laugh at me! I could smell him! And you! You left me here with that… madman!”

“I’m not laughing. I’m sorry. And you’re right. I could smell him as well. I guess fighting gets him hot. Or baseball bats. But he wouldn’t do that. He was going to stake you though but Cordy stopped him.”

Spike closed his eyes and groaned. “Great! Saved by an itty bitty girl.” He looked up again, scowling. “And what the bloody hell crawled up his arse then? What have I ever done to him?”

“He said he thought you were going to kill me.”

“What?! Where would he get such a ridiculous…?” He stopped. “Oh. Right.”

Angel tried to hide his amused smile. “So you did threaten to kill me?”

“Well, yeah! You left me alone in bed after shagging my brains out!” He punched him in the arm then snuggled closer. “You’re lucky I’m too beat to kill you right now. Bastard.”

“Ah.” Angel eased down on the bed until they lay comfortably side by side and let one finger travel lazily down Spike’s chest. “I had to go save some stupid kids from a Wrysler demon. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Spike sighed. “That’s what I tried telling myself but I didn’t exactly listen. Was a bit too pissed off for that.” He growled softly in remembrance then gasped as the finger reached the sensitive skin above his pubic bone.

“Next time?” The finger stroke a bit lower, making him shiver in anticipation. “Listen. And don’t barge around saying you’re gonna kill me. My friends don’t like that.”

“Yeah, yeah. So…” He hitched his breath. Just a little bit lower…

“So…” Angel suddenly stopped and looked at him, concern in his eyes. “You ok? You scared me, spacing out like that. I wasn’t sure how to bring you out of it.”

Spike was silent for a while, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought… Remember in Sunnydale when you… when Angelus… Well, I did it then. Not that you noticed. And later, when… everything else happened, I… it helped. That’s all.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” He laid his palm flat on Spike’s stomach, using his other hand to stroke some stray hairs away from his face.

He shook his head, wincing slightly at the pain. “Don’t be sorry. Help me fix it.” He turned and looked down at Angel, eyes desperate. “I can’t survive like this. Scared of everything and everyone. One day there won’t be a girl or you or anyone else around to save my arse and… I’ll die. One way or the other.”

Angel sighed. “Spike, I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Find out. Please.” The last word was said quietly, eyes averted.

“And then you’ll start killing again and I…” Angel sat up, turning his back on him. “How is that supposed to work?”

“I could kill just bad people.”

He shook his head. “And how do you know who’s bad? Who deserves to die? You can’t play God, Spike.”

Spike snorted. “You decide which demons get to die. Are you God?”

Angel stood up, distancing himself further. “It’s not the same.”

“Of course it is. You kill demons that are only living their lives according to their species. It so happens that their meal of choice is human? So what? What about humans that eat other species they consider lower? Pigs, cows, those cute little lambs. That’s ok?” He had gotten to his feet as well and glared at Angel in defiance.

“Spike…”

“No." Spike shook his head and started pacing the room, waving his arms to empasize his words. "What’s the bloody difference? It’s kill or get killed. Predator or prey. Just because they breed them in cages doesn’t make it any more right. Makes it actually worse if you think about it. At least humans have a fair chance of fighting back.”

Angel sighed. “I’m not going to debate the rights and wrongs of carnivores with you. Besides I know you love a good raw steak.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying. Nothing morally wrong with enjoying a good meal. Do we consider the lion evil for eating the pretty antelope? Is the spider a monster because it traps innocent flies in its web?”

Angel closed his eyes in frustration. “Humans are different.”

“Why? Because they have souls?" Spike snorted. "Let me tell you, most of them don’t know what it’s for.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter!" Angel turned away, shoulders tense. "You can rationalize it all you want; I can’t let you walk around L.A. killing people!”

“But you don’t have a problem with them killing me?" The anger in his voice was brittle, making way for desperation. "Or raping my evil arse? That’s all right, isn’t it? Because I _don’t_ have a soul. Lesser being, right?”

Angel turned around and stared at him. “Spike! Stop it!" He took a step toward him, pausing when Spike backed away, refusing to look at him. "Why are you doing this? Why can’t we just let things be the way they are?”

“Because you can’t watch over me 24/7. I can’t be locked up in here forever." Spike's voice broke momentarily and he bit his lip, trying to calm down. "I’m as defenceless as a tiny kitten out there, Angel! And one day, probably soon, they will get me. And I’ll die like the useless bugger I am.”

“Don’t." Angel reached for Spike but he turned away from him. "Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true. You know it’s true. This is a nice place but I can’t stay locked up in here, waiting for you to come home like the good little wife." He finally faced him, pain in his eyes. "Like your bloody dog.”

Angel just looked at him, lost for words.

Spike swallowed. “Help me.”

“I…” Angel shook his head. “Spike, I…” He lowered his eyes in guilt.

They stood in silence, separated by a soul and a chip. Time ticked by. Seconds, minutes.

“What if… what if I don’t?”

Angel looked at him, confused. “Don’t what?”

Spike didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t kill. What if I don’t kill?”

Angel shook his head slowly, swallowing. “You can’t promise something like that. It’s not that easy.”

“You do it.” Spike looked up, blue eyes big and hopeful.

“I have a soul. That keeps me in check.” He rubbed a clammy palm over his face, suddenly feeling so very tired. “You don’t have that, Spike. What’s gonna keep you from slipping, from following your instinct?”

“You.”

Angel opened his mouth and closed it again. Spike was gazing up at him with such trust and hope that it took his breath away. His stomach tightened into a tiny knot. He crossed the room and pulled Spike into his arms, grabbed him by the neck and kissed him hard. They stood still, Spike breathing into Angel’s neck, arms tight around his waist.

“I’m not God, Will. I’m not your conscience.”

“I know. But you can be my reason.”

Angel shook his head, pulling him tighter. “I don’t think that’s enough, Will. Once the chip is out… all those lovely necks, all those pounding veins… knowing you can have them…”

“Angel, please.”

“One day you’re staring down into a mug of pigs blood and you’ll stop and think ‘Why am I drinking this shit when I can go out into the next alley and get myself some warm human blood straight from the vein of a pretty young girl?’”

Spike shook his head in desperation. “I won’t. I promise. Just please, get this thing out of my brain. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t… I can’t… Angel, please!”

“I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes. “I wish I could but…”

The hard shove was so unexpected he fell over, landing bottom first on the floor with a thud. Spike was standing over him, fists clenched.

“Well, fuck you then! Fuck you, Angel! You said you cared but you bloody well don’t, do you?”

“Spike…”

“No! Get the hell away from me! You have no idea! You have no fucking idea what it’s like, being like this!”

“No, but…”

“Every time. Every fucking time I go out I’m scared to death some shitty little bugger will... kill me. No. No, I’m scared he’ll do much worse things. Humans! Humans, Angel! Fucking humans shoving their cocks down my throat and up my arse. And there’s nothing, **nothing** I can do!”

Angel got slowly to his feet. “That’s not true. Spike, listen to me.”

“No! Stop trying to…”

“Listen! Shut up and listen for once. Remember those first years? You were naïve and clumsy and you weren’t much stronger than an above average man. But here you are now, over a hundred and twenty years later, and why? You’ve fought a lot of demons both bigger and stronger than you and still you’re here. Why? Because you’ve got brains, Spike. Because you think fast and smart and you know how to play your cards right.”

“But…”

“No. Listen to me. If I did what you’re asking me to do you wouldn’t be able to stay here. Do you understand? I can’t wake up next to you, smelling of someone’s blood. I can’t. Every life you take would mean another on my conscience and I… I can’t, Will. What I’ve done… it’s killing me, every day. And if you… I couldn’t bear it. Maybe you don’t care about that but…”

Spike stared at him, tears of anger and hurt in his eyes. “Don’t say that! How can you say that?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do, Will. But you… You can fight. With your brain and your wits. Strength isn’t all you have.”

“But what if…”

“If you run into shitty evil humans? You deal with it. That’s what you do. Almost three months you’ve been out with that thing in your head and by now you should have adapted. But you haven’t. You’ve lost yourself in self-pity and despair and you’ve forgotten who you are!”

Spike shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, jaw ticking with tension. “Fuck you, Angel! A kid! A tiny toddler could kill me without me being able to do anything to stop it.”

“Last time I checked you had legs. Right? Walk away. Or if that fails, grab the little shit by his neck and hold him at an arms length. Or call his mom for god’s sake. Get your head out of your ass and think straight.”

“Yeah, that’s really funny. You know I meant...”

“Yes, I know. You feel helpless, powerless, scared. I get that. But you don’t let fear kill you, Spike.” Angel grabbed his arms and shook him. “You tell it to fuck off!”

Spike pushed him away, tears in his eyes. “I can’t! I… How can I do that? It’s too hard. It’s too…”

“Listen to yourself! Who are you? You’re not Spike! You’re a damn pussy. Stop whining for fuck’s sake and get your balls back!”

For a moment he thought and hoped that Spike would hit him. Then it looked like he would break down again, proving Angel’s hastily thought plan a failure. But the emotions slowly left his face and his eyes turned blank.

“You’re right.”

Angel blinked. “I am?”

“I can’t live with this fear. I can’t let what they did control me. I have to, as you eloquently put it, get my balls back.” He pursed his lips in thought.

“Well… yeah. But…”

Spike nodded firmly. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” Angel stared at him in disbelieve. “No!”

“Yes. You said it. Got to prove to myself I’m still me. Got to use my brains to get what I want.”

“But… leave?” He shook his head. “Spike…”

“Angel, I have to.” Spike looked up and gave him a pained smile. “My bollocks, right? I’m no use without them.”

“Ok, yes. But I still don’t get it. Why do you have to leave?”

Spike rolled his eyes but he couldn’t hide the trembling that was slowly making its way back into his limbs, setting his recovery back a fortnight.

“Well, they’re not here, are they? They’re in fucking Sunnydale.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Sit still.”

“You know, you were the one who wanted to come along.”

“Right. I should have just let you walk instead, that’s it?”

“I could have nicked a car.”

“Yeah, and you could have gotten arrested.”

“Uhuh, not me. Brain, remember?”

“Well, obviously you haven’t started using it yet.”

“Fuck off, Angel.”

“Blow me.”

Spike turned his head and glared at him but whatever words he’d had ready froze on his tongue at the look in Angel’s eyes and he growled softly, a smug smile flickering across his lips. With a screech the car swung to the edge of the road and before it came to a halt they were fucking each others mouths with desperate tongues, hands tugging at hair, fingers fighting with buttons.

“Fuck, Angel.”

“Yeah.”

They did it fast and hard, fists around cocks, grunting to the rhythm of flesh slapping against flesh. Faster and faster until Spike stiffened and cried out, spilling his semen over Angel’s hand as Angel himself groaned into his Spike’s mouth, bucking into his tight fist. As their breathing slowed down their kisses turned softer, their hands moving up to stroke skin, leaving a trail of wetness across their stomachs.

“We should…”

“Uhuh.”

Angel reluctantly leaned back and tucked himself in before starting the car again, a soft smile playing on his lips. “If we continue like this we’ll never get there.”

Spike snorted and licked his fingers clean. “Don’t look at me. You’re the one that can’t keep your hands off me. Who knew once you got started you would be so bloody horny all the time?”

“Me? We weren’t even out of the city when you pulled down my zipper and…”

“Are you complaining? Because I can very well…”

\----------

As they got closer Spike fell silent, only uttering a few grunts of agreement or denial when needed. Angel kept glancing at him, hoping he’d change his mind but no matter how much they’d argued about it Spike was as stubborn as a child and refused to even consider it. Still he couldn’t help…

“You know, we can still…”

Spike clenched his jaw. “I’m not going back without them.”

He sighed. “Spike, you do know it’s just metaphorical, right? They didn’t really cut off your balls.”

“Funny. I’m glad my suffering is so entertaining to you.”

Angel glanced over. Spike was staring out into the dark, fingers curled into fists on his thighs. “Spike…”

“Save it, Angel.”

“Well, what’s your plan then? You do have a plan, right?”

Spike scowled. “Idnknw”

“What?”

“I said, I don’t know! I’ll know when I get there, all right?” He drummed his fingers on the glass. “I was never one for planning anyway. That’s your gig. I’m more for the kick and kill.”

“Except now you can neither kick nor kill. So what are you gonna do? Throw insults at them?”

Spike growled. “You’re just full of the funny, aren’t you?”

Angel sighed and reached over, resting his hand on Spike’s knee. “I’m just trying to help you get what you want in a non-suicide way. And by the way, I’m still not sure what it is you want. And don’t say ‘your balls’ again.”

“Revenge.” The voice was barely audible, like he was afraid Angel might turn the car around in protest.

“Ok.”

Spike looked up in surprise. “You’re not gonna lecture me about humans and souls and all that crap?”

Angel stared out at the road in front of them, jaw tense. “When I found you, found out what they’d done to you… I wanted to kill every one of them. Still do. So no, I’m not going to stop you. But I won’t let you do anything foolish enough to get you killed. Because then they have won once again, Spike. Over both of us.”

There was silence for a while then Spike said quietly, “Thank you.”

Angel nodded but inside he was crumbling with worry. How was this going to end? He couldn’t stop glancing at Spike. What if it all went wrong and… He couldn’t bear losing him. Not now.

Spike was staring down at his hands lying on his lap. They were shivering, like they had been doing ever since he’d decided to go to Sunnydale. Angel had thought it was the booze or the cold from being so weak that had done that to him but it was becoming clearer that it wasn’t so much physical as it was his mind, playing with him, reminding him how much power those bastards had over him. Look at the scared little vampire, shaking like a leaf. It was painful, seeing him like that.

“So… you’re going to help me?”

Angel looked up, startled. “I thought you wanted to do this on your own.”

“Yeah, but…” Spike smiled faintly. “Brain, remember? It would be bloody foolish to go blasting in alone, chip and all.” He imitated a punch in the air and grabbed his head in mock pain. “Greenies 1 - Spike 0.”

“I think blasting in of any kind would be foolish but yeah, probably not too smart you going against them alone. So yeah, I’m in.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m feeling nostalgic. Watch out! Angelus and William the Bloody are back in town.”

Spike looked at him and laughed. “Yeah, and this time they’re pissed off.”

“Those shitheads better not mess with us!”

“Too right! Wankers!”

“Yeah! They’ll regret the day they were born!”

“Yeah!” Spike snorted and shook his head. “You know we’re full of shit, right?”

“God, yes. We’re so screwed.”

They laughed, Angel reserved and worried, Spike half hysterically.

A loud sound made them jump and Angel blinked in surprise until Spike fished the cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Oh.” He fumbled with the buttons to the very annoying synthesised music of the Backstreet Boys, courtesy of Cordelia.

“Hello? Cordy… I’m sorry, we didn’t… Sunnydale… No, I’m not gone insane… No, he’s not insane either.” He looked over at Spike. “Well, no more than usual. Ow! No, I’m okay. Spike just hit me…. I did not! It was a joke!” He sighed. “Cordy, was there something you wanted?” He held the phone a foot away from his ear while the loud voice yelled at the other end. When it finally quieted down he forced a smile on his face before answering. “Look, this is something Spike… something we have to do, ok? I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you and Wesley about it but frankly it’s none of your business.”

Spike gaped. “Oh, now you’ve done it!”

They sighed in stereo as the yelling continued. Finally Spike took the phone from Angel, breathing deeply a few times before interrupting the steady flow of angry words.

“Pet, listen. Angel is doing this for me, all right? And he didn’t tell you ‘cause he doesn’t want to risk you two getting hurt, the big poof. I wanted to bring you along – well, for snacks - but he wouldn’t let me. It’s true!” He glared at the phone. “I’m not cute! Stop saying I’m cute! Angel!”

Angel grabbed the phone back from him. “Cordelia? I’ll call you when we know more, all right? Don’t come! Stay there and take care of the business until we get back.” He listened and nodded a few times. “Ok. Oh, and Cordelia? Spike’s not cute.” He looked over at Spike who didn’t seem sure if he should be triumphant or offended. “He is however pretty as a butterfly. Ow! Ow! Spike, stop it! Spike!”

\-------------------------

They arrived shortly before sunrise. The mansion was dusty and smelled of old blood and rats. Spike stood in the middle of the big room, looking around with a feeling of unease. He knew there’d be a couple of Dru’s dolls somewhere, staring with blind eyes like zombie children. He could still detect her scent, very faintly.

“You all right?”

The strong arms that pulled him in were another reminder of how different this was from the last time he was here. Angelus hadn’t exactly been in the mood for cuddles after being trapped in Angel’s head for over a century. Spike closed his eyes, shutting out the memories. He had enough to deal with, enough cracks in his mind.

“Yeah. Just thinking. She loved this place, you know.”

Angel kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

Spike laughed softly and shook his head. “I’ll never get used to hearing you say that.”

He could feel Angel smile into his hair. “Once I’ve started I just can’t seem to stop.” He brushed Spike’s hair aside, dropping kisses down the side of his neck. “So many sins. So much evil I’ve done.”

Spike grinned. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes. Need to be absolved. For. Every. One. Of . Them.” Each word carried a kiss or a nibble as Angel’s hands slid down Spike’s sides, finally resting on his hips, pulling him even closer.

“Want to be forgiven?” Spike’s voice was husky. Angel nodded and licked up his neck.

Spike smiled teasingly. “Want to be punished?”

The sharp intake of breath made him open his eyes in surprise and he reached behind him, grabbing Angel’s arse, pulling him closer. A cock pressed into his lower back, hard and twitching.

“That’s it? That’s it, Angel? You want me to punish you?”

There was no mistaking the tensing of Angel’s hands on Spike’s hips, fingers pressing prints into his skin. Slowly Spike turned around and looked up at him. Angel stood still, his eyes dark with lust but also filled with uncertainty. Spike could feel his cock throbbing under the thin material of his pants.

“I…” He bit his lip. “You really want that?”

“I don’t know.” Angel averted his eyes. “Yes. Maybe.”

Spike swallowed. “I’m not the Slayer, Angel. Guilt is not my game.”

Angel shook his head in annoyance. “She wasn’t like that.”

“No, maybe not. But you were.” He tilted his head in thought. “Every moment you spent in her presence you felt inferior. And you liked that. You thought you deserved that.”

Angel closed his eyes. “I do.”

He sighed. “Angel, you bloody well don’t. She’s had what? 18 years in this sick world? Of course she’s innocent and pure and all that. It doesn’t make you inferior. It only makes you realistic. And really, really old. Like shagging your great-great-great-granddaughter old.”

Angel couldn’t help the small smile but it soon faded away. “She brought me light.”

Spike pulled him closer and kissed him. “Yeah. She was the light, which made you the dark. Every good thing you saw in her reflected something bad you saw in yourself. Right?”

He shook his head again. “You don’t know…”

“No, I don’t. I don’t get it. Because we _are_ darkness, we are far from innocent. I never understood why you’d want someone so different from everything we are.” He paused. “Everything I am.”

Angel didn’t seem to hear him. “Maybe because that’s where I want to be. In the sun. Doesn’t matter that I’ll never get there, or that it’ll only burn me. She was that sun. She gave me hope.”

Spike slowly let him go. “And what do I give you? Beside sex.”

Angel blinked. “You?” He stared down at Spike and then it suddenly seemed to dawn on him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…”

“No. You said it. You want the light. And I’m darkness. What can I possibly give you?”

He turned away but Angel grabbed him and turned him around, pulling him into his arms, crushing him in his embrace. Spike growled softly but didn’t resist and for a moment they just stood like that, Angel burying his face in Spike’s hair.

“You allow me to be myself.” Angel’s voice was so low it was barely audible. “You accept me as I am. You make me feel like a man and not a monster.”

Spike snorted. “You _are_ a monster. We both are.”

Angel tipped up Spike’s head and forced him to look into his eyes. “Yes, but with you it’s ok.”

They kissed. Spike closed his eyes and let the flood of emotions wash over him. He couldn’t trust this no matter how much he wanted to. The persistent voice in his head kept telling him how pathetic he was for hoping this was anything more than just a shag. Angel would come to his senses and push him away soon enough. It was only a matter of time. And now they were back in the Slayer’s backyard. One whiff of her and Angel would run back into her arms. He was in no doubt about that.

Light or dark. To Angel there was only one answer.

Angel didn’t seem to notice his melancholy. Blinded by the prospect of sex no doubt, Spike thought with a sudden spark of anger. Ever since his little temper tantrum yesterday he’d kept getting these sudden flashes of rage. Rage directed at everything and everyone that had crossed him in anyway. For some reason Angel stood very high on that list. Angel would probably tell him it was a good thing, a step toward healing or something. Whatever it was he wished it would go away. The temptation to give in was becoming increasingly harder to resist.

He pushed the gloomy thoughts to the back of his mind. If he was about to lose him, he needed to use every minute he had. Their kissing became more passionate and after some time Angel fell to his knees, nuzzling into Spike’s stomach, hands stroking his back.

“Want to taste you. You smell so good.”

Spike opened his eyes and looked down at Angel, the sight going straight to his cock and he groaned in need. “Yeah?”

“Want to lick every inch of your skin. Your perfect skin.”

_Not perfect. Can’t you see I’m covered in scars, Angel?_

The memory of Angel kissing Buffy in almost the exact same spot hit him. Stop! Stop thinking about it. Get a grip, you bloody idiot. “Maybe… maybe we should move up to the bedroom.”

Angel looked up. “You sure? Last time we were there…”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

He pulled Angel to his feet and they kissed again before moving up the stairs and entering the master bedroom. There was a thin layer of dust on the bedspread but underneath the sheets looked relatively clean. He couldn’t help wondering if Angel came back here regularly just to keep an eye on his little ball of sunshine. He sure hadn’t been looking out for little old Spike.

The anger he’d felt earlier suddenly flared up and he pushed Angel down on the bed then turned around to undress, fighting to keep his emotions under control.

Whatever had gone on in their past this was not the time to throw accusations and search for answers. There probably never would be a time for that. Not unless he wanted to bollocks it all up again. Whatever ‘it’ was.

He took his time, draping his coat over the chair where Dru used to sit and watch while Angelus… He pulled the t-shirt over his head with shaking hands and threw it on top, fighting to shut out the memory. That was then, this is now. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He unbuckled his belt, the image of it flaying his back flashing across his mind. Kicked off his boots and pulled off his jeans. He stood naked, back turned, waiting until he was sure all emotions had been forced from his face.

Then he turned around.

Angel was lying on the bed, naked, watching him. “God, you’re so...”

Lies. Lies and deception. “Shut up.”

Spike got into bed and kissed him roughly, crushing Angel’s lips with his, grinding them together like he wanted to brand him as his property. Winding his fingers into the dark hair and twisting it until Angel was arching off the bed, moaning into his mouth. For some reason that sound only made him angrier. He thrust his right hand between them and grabbed Angel’s cock, squeezing it in his fist.

“God, Spike…”

“Shut up or I’ll rip your fucking cock off.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected, actually he’d been too angry to think of Angel’s reaction to this turnabout of events, but the whimper took him completely by surprise. He froze and pulled away, staring down at this man, this creature that he in a way considered his God. Angel’s eyes were almost black with lust but he had a strange expression on his face that Spike had never seen before. It almost looked like fear.

It felt like a kick in his groin. Every colour, every sound sharpened as his face shifted, his gums itching with the spiking of his teeth. He licked his lips, nicking his tongue on the sharp fangs. He could feel Angel shivering beneath him. With a growl he pulled Angel’s head to the side, baring his neck, and moved in.

The bite was hard and vicious, the feeding sloppy like a fledgling’s. With every suck he thrust down, grinding his hard erection against Angel’s, squeezing them together in his tight fist. Faster and harder, drinking down Angel’s blood as he violently worked their cocks. Angel’s moaning turned into whimpers and finally he grew silent, breathing raggedly into Spike’s ear.

“S-spike…”

With a shudder Angel came, spilling over Spike’s hand and still hard cock. Spike kept working, growling in frustration until with a final suck he withdrew, leaving the wound open and oozing sluggishly. He sat back and looked down at Angel’s pale face, eyes glowing with anger.

“Liked that? You liked that, Angelus?”

Angel’s eyes were slightly glazed. “Ye-es.”

Spike tightened his hold on Angel’s hair, tugging at it hard. “You like feeling weak? Like being in my mercy?” His voice got shriller, his body shaking. “Being _my_ victim?”

Angel blinked. “Spike…”

“Punishment. That’s what you wanted, yeah? I could take you right now, you know. Turn you around and take you just like you took me all those times, fucking useless legs dangling as you…” He hitched his breath. “I could…” His voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut. The demon melted away from his face with a painful ripple.

“Do it.”

“Shut up, Angel. Just… shut up.”

“Spike, do it. I deserve it. You need… It’s all right.”

“No! It’s not! Nothing is all right!” Spike pushed off him and stumbled across the room until he hit the wall where he leaned against it, trembling arms supporting him. He banged his forehead against the dusty stone again and again until he could feel blood running down his nose and in between his lips. It tasted like Sire.

“Will…” Angel struggled to sit up. “Please don’t.”

“I wanted to. Punish you. Make you hurt for… everything. Make you cry and bleed and beg me to stop.” He swallowed a sob.

“It’s okay. I deserve it.”

“No!” He slammed his palms against the wall. “No!”

“Spike…”

Spike’s shoulder slumped. “We have to go back. This was a mistake.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “The fear. It’s the only thing keeping me good. The only thing keeping me from being the monster I am. Without it… I will be me again. And I… I am evil. I am everything you hate.”

“Spike, no.”

“You were right.” Spike shook his head slowly. “It would never work. Not without the chip. Not without this terror. I don’t have a soul. I don’t have anything to stop me. I’m just…”

“You did. Stop.” Angel stood up on swaying legs. “You stopped, Spike. Right now you could have killed me, raped me, whatever. You didn’t.”

“Because it’s you, Angel! Only because it’s you.”

“You don’t have a soul. You don’t have a conscience. Why should it matter that it’s me?”

“Because I love _you_!”

His forehead was sticking to the cold wall, dust settling in the coagulating blood. His own breathing, needless and useless, sounded deafeningly loud in his ears.

“You…you love me?”

God, it was cold in here! So cold. So godawful cold.

“Spike… Will, I…”

He thought he was going to be sick. A drink. He really needed a drink.

Feet stumbling. Heavy breathing from exertion. Then he was being pulled into trembling arms, hugged so hard his ribs cracked.

“God, I never…”

_Don’t say it. Please, Angel. I know. I know. I just can’t bear to hear it._

He kept his eyes closed as he was turned around, fingers stroking down his cheekbones. And all he could think of was how humiliating it was to be naked at this moment of devastation.

“Will, I…”

“Oh my God.”

They froze. Then Spike slowly opened his eyes and faced the final nail in his coffin.

“Slayer.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First a few words. I don't go in for character bashing, well I try not to anyway, so this is pretty much how I think Buffy would react to walking in on Angel nekkid with one of her arch nemesiseseses. Quite a shock I'm sure and we all know she sometimes says pretty nasty things when angry. But I really tried to keep it believable and I hope that worked. Then I'd like to warn for schmoop and last but not least for bad Scooby voices. In the end I decided to skip Anya completely and Willow keeps rather quiet. Oh yeah, this takes place before New Moon Rising.

Angel stood absolutely still, staring at the reflection in Spike’s eyes. The tiny little girl in his irises was covering her mouth with her hand, eyes unnaturally wide, a stake clutched in her trembling fist. Then Spike blinked and instead of the mirrored image Angel saw such deep grief and fear that he faltered for a moment, unsure which one to deal with first.

“You… Oh God.”

Slowly he turned around, his nudity making him feel more vulnerable than he cared to admit. “Buffy. What are you doing here?”

“Me?!” Her voice hoarse with shock. “What are _you_ doing here?! With _him_?!” Wet eyes halted at his neck, then travelled to Spike before returning, filled with anger. “He attacked you!” The hand carrying the stake went rigid, ready to fight.

Angel sensed Spike taking a step back behind him. Confused he lifted his hand and touched the wound on his neck. It had stopped bleeding and was already starting to heal but he felt how vicious it must look. And Spike’s face was covered in blood.

“No. No, he didn’t. He fed from me, Buffy, that’s all.”

She laughed hysterically. “Naked? You have naked dinner parties? Is that an LA thing, Angel?” The shaking in her voice didn’t match her words.

He clenched his jaw. “No, it’s a sex thing. But then you probably knew that.”

Her lip trembled. “God, I can’t believe… And… _Spike_? Do you have any idea what he’s tried to do to us? To me?”

He sensed Spike tensing behind him. “Yes.”

“And still you…” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

He sighed. “I’m me, Buffy. This is what I am.”

“What? A… I don’t even know what to call you.”

“Vampire works fine.”

Spike pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against in fake indifference. “Think she’s looking for something a bit more descriptive, mate. Pervert, fag, disgusting monster...”

Angel sighed. “Spike…”

Buffy’s face hardened and she took a step towards Spike, raising her stake. “Shut up, Spike! And stay back. One more step and I’ll dust your naked ass.”

He stopped, eyes fixated on the weapon in her hand. “Was only trying to help. Clear things up, so to speak.”

She shook her head. “This is between me and Angel. Don’t help. Better yet, get out.”

Angel caught Spike by the arm as he turned away, his grip tight and reassuring. “He stays.”

She glared at him. “Angel, I’m not staying if he…”

“Then leave.”

She froze, mouth open in shock. “What?”

“Buffy, you barge in here, throw insults at us and order us about. This is my place, not yours. I’m happy to talk to you but not now and not like this. For one thing, I prefer being dressed when threatened with a stake.”

“Kinda depends on the stake…”

He growled. “Spike? Not helping.”

“You’re throwing me out? I can’t believe…”

He cut her off. “How’s Riley?”

She blushed scarlet then her eyes filled with anger. “That’s what this is about? You got jealous and decided to play a little game of revenge on me?”

He could feel Spike tensing beside him and squeezed his arm tighter. “No. I got _angry_ and decided to play a little game of revenge on _him_ for what he did to my boy.”

“Your…” She blinked. “Are you serious?” She looked over at Spike and her eyes hardened. “And for your information, that chip? Is the only thing that’s kept ‘your boy’ from killing us. And Riley didn’t put it in his head, the Initiative did.”

He growled. “That’s not all they did. You have no idea…”

“Angel.” Spike’s voice was quiet but desperate.

He stopped and took a deep breath. “Let’s just say he could use a good spanking, along with his pals.”

Her stare travelled from one to the other then she pointed her stake at Spike. “He did this to you. This is some scheme of his.” She took a step closer and Spike involuntarily shrunk back from the threat.

“Get away from him!” Angel’s voice was a low growl, shocking Spike almost as much as Buffy.

She hitched her breath, eyes wide, then slowly withdrew. “I’d say you’d lost your soul except then _you_ wouldn’t be the one bleeding.”

“And you’d probably be dead.” He sighed at the shocked look on her face. “Buffy, we’ll talk later. We’re tired and going to bed. Be a good girl and run along to school now.”

She clenched her jaw, eyes flashing with anger. “I wouldn’t sleep too soundly if I were you.”

Her footsteps sounded like gunshots on the hard stone floor. Angel stood still until they heard the door slamming. Then he walked over to the bed and sat down, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh God.”

Spike stood silent, head bowed. After a few moments of silence he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. “Look, I’m sure she’ll get over it once you explain to her it was a one time thing. Blame it on the moon or something.”

Angel looked up with a frown, then his eyes widened. “No, Spike. Stop.”

He pulled on his t-shirt, refusing to look at Angel. “I appreciate you sticking up for me but I’m not worth it, ok? Once the blood leaves your dick and goes back to your brain you’re going to look at me and think ‘What the fuck was I on?’ So let me save us both the embarrassment and leave now.”

Angel stood up slowly. “You said you loved me.”

He stilled. “Yeah well, I’m insane, remember?”

“I guess I’m too then.”

He watched Spike’s face, his expression going from confusion to hope to distrust in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t… don’t lie to me.”

He took a step closer. “I’m not lying.”

Spike shook his head. “Angel…”

Angel sighed and closed the distance between them, pulling him in for a quick hard hug before tilting his head upwards, rubbing the bloodied chin between his fingers. “I’ve always loved you, Will.”

He kissed Spike softly, swallowing the choked sob, sucking the blood of his lips and tongue. Fingers run gently through the blond hair, stroking the damp curls that were matted with sweat and stained with blood.

“Always loved you, always needed you. Was just too stupid to realise.”

He kissed him again, hugging the trembling body hard against his chest. When Spike slowly put his arms around his waist and hugged him back he closed his eyes and breathed out in relief.

“Thank you.”

Spike only shook his head and hugged him harder. They stood quiet in each other’s arms until Spike’s trembling made Angel draw back and he tugged Spike over to the bed and gently undressed him again. Spike let himself be handled like a child, his limbs heavy and limp. Angel pulled him down beside him on the bed and softly kissed and licked the blood and tears off his face while his hands moved over the cold body, stroking the goosebumps on his skin.

“Need to get some warmth into you, Will. Get some meat on your bones, some strength in your heart.”

Spike smiled faintly. “Some cock in my arse.”

Angel laughed. “Yeah, that too.”

He bit his lip. “What about the Sla… what about Buffy?”

Angel was silent for a while, stroking Spike’s hair thoughtfully. “The thing about dreams is that there comes the moment when you wake up and realise that’s all it will ever be. A dream. I still love her, I probably always will, but… If I have to chose between a dream that will never come true and a real thing that just might...”

Spike stiffened. “I won’t be her substitute.”

Angel smiled and shook his head. “Spike, apart from being blond and tiny, which according to Cordelia is a fetish of mine, there’s no chance I will confuse the two of you. And I’m not talking about your anatomy. Well, not just.”

“Don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not. And you’re not. Her substitute. It’s a whole different thing, you and I.”

Spike bit his lip. “Angel, don’t…”

Angel stroke his cheek gently. “Look, you still love Drusilla, right? You’ll always love her.”

“Yeah but...” Spike averted his eyes.

“And still you love me. It’s the same thing. Love has no limitations, Spike. It has no boundaries. Loving one person doesn’t mean you can’t love another.”

Spike smiled faintly. “You read that off a postcard for adulterers? Greetings from Hallmark?”

“No!” Angel scowled. “I made it up myself.”

He snorted. “That explains the lack of poetry.”

“Well, we can’t all be poets. William.”

Spike frowned, his lips twitching slightly. “Don’t call me that. I always hated it when you called me that.”

Angel looked at him thoughtfully then nodded. “Okay.” He kissed him then pulled back and added, “I hate it when you call me a poof.”

That brought a grin to Spike’s face. “Learn to live with it, Peaches.” He chuckled when Angel growled and grabbed his wrists.

“I hate that one too.”

“I know.”

He laughed into Angel’s mouth as he kissed him, a laughter that soon turned into gasps as Angel wriggled on top of him, pinning him under his weight. “Angel…”

“Said I wanted to taste you.”

Angel worked his way slowly down from Spike’s neck, kissing and nibbling every inch of his skin, sending shivers of desire to every nerve in his body. Soon he had Spike trembling and whimpering beneath him, writhing to try and get Angel to lick here and touch there. His cock was swaying above his belly, aching for attention, his balls contracting as every minute of sweet torture brought him closer to the edge.

“Please, Angel. I need…”

“I know.”

He pushed Spike’s knees up and apart, blowing softly at the soft skin before giving it a quick lick. The puckered entrance contracted in shock and Spike hitched his breath.

“Want to taste every inch of you.”

Angel resumed his licking, hands splayed on Spike’s hips to hold him down as he cursed and whimpered for more. When the muscle was well relaxed and wet Angel pushed his tongue slowly and steadily as far in as he could manage.

Damn his big nose. It was squished against Spike’s perineum, the coarse hairs tickling and sticking inside his nostrils. They sure never talked about this part in gay porn. The gay porn he certainly never read on Cordelia’s computer. Maybe he was doing this wrong? A loud moan vibrating Spike’s belly reassured him.

Spike’s thighs were trembling, keening sounds of desperate pleasure coming from his throat. Whenever Angel pulled out his tongue there was a small whimper of protest before he pushed it back inside.

He wasn’t sure which he enjoyed more; the helpless surrender of Spike to the pleasure; moaning and writhing, pushing down against his thrusts, or the unique taste of Spike’s body, the smell of his most intimate parts, the feel of the velvety skin around his tongue. Just perfect. He could do this for hours and hours…

“God, Angel. You’re killing me! Need your fucking big cock inside me.”

He pulled out and smiled, running his numb tongue along the inside of his teeth. “Oh Will, such a romantic.” He started kissing the trembling thighs teasingly.

Spike growled. “Angel! Get that cock inside my arse or so help me God I will rip it off and stick it there myself.”

Angel pouted and looked down. “Well, now you’ve gone and scared it. Not sure it wants to anymore.”

Spike sat up and grabbed his hair, pulling him in for a hard kiss. “Liam! Cock. Arse. Now.”

Angel grinned. “Well, if you insist.”

He rolled over and reached for his pants, ignoring Spike’s irritated growling. Triumphant he pulled out a tube of lubrication and waved it at Spike who rolled his eyes and smiled impatiently.

“Poof.”

“Oh, you’ll thank me soon enough.”

He squirted a generous amount on his fingers then slid one into the relaxed entrance. “Feel that? So much better when it’s all slick and sliding, isn’t it?”

“Uhuh.” Spike was staring at him with hungry eyes.

“Mmmm, yeah.” He pushed another one inside and chuckled as Spike closed his eyes in pleasure. “Bet I could get my whole fist in there much easier than when…” He stopped at Spike’s warning glare. “Not that I’m going to.” Clearly that subject would have to be approached a bit more subtly.

“You better not or I’ll… oh God!” Spike raised his head in shock. “Bloody hell, what’s that?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s a warming gel.” Smirking Angel thrust his fingers inside, scissoring them to open him up further. “Should get quite hot in there right about… now.”

“Oh God! Oh holy fucking Jesus!”

Angel smugly watched as Spike’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his whole body trembling. This was fun! And very, very arousing. He bit his lip. A bit too arousing actually.

When Spike started fucking himself desperately on the slick fingers Angel couldn’t help groaning at the delicious sight. Finally unable to hold back any longer he pulled out, positioned the tip of his cock at the entrance and in one swift motion pushed inside. Heat exploded around him.

“Fuck!” He sucked in air, eyes wide.

“You better! God! Oh bloody buggering hell!” Spike was gasping, digging his fingers into Angel’s biceps. “Angel! If you don’t start moving I’ll…Nnngh!”

Angel slammed into the writhing and moaning body beneath him, fucking Spike fast and hard, banging his head against the headboard. The heat was driving him mad, the need for release so great he was frantic. He grabbed Spike’s cock, fisting it with his slick hand which soon also heated up, making Spike open his eyes in wide shock a few seconds before he was arching off the bed, screaming out in exquisite pleasure.

The cool liquid spilling over his hand and the clenching of Spike’s hot muscles was his final push and he thrust in hard for a few final times as he came, before collapsing on top of the limp body, sweat and cum sticking them together.

They lay still, bodies heaving for breath, limbs trembling in the aftermath.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you bought plenty.”

“Five tubes.”

“Good.”

Angel reluctantly rolled over to his side, his spent cock slipping out of Spike’s cooling body. He pulled the covers over them, wrapping Spike up in his arms. His eyes felt heavy, his mind calm. Sleep. Sleep would be good right about now.

“Angel?”

He stifled a yawn. “Uhuh?”

“‘Your boy’?”

He stilled then slowly opened one eye to peek out. Spike was watching him with a strange glint in his eyes. “Yeah, well… I…” He stopped, unsure.

Spike leaned over and kissed him softly before settling against his chest. “ _That_ I never hated.”

\---------------------------

“Deadboy and son? Huh. Please tell me they were beating the crap out of each other.”

Buffy clenched her jaw and looked away. “Not exactly.”

“Kicking? Screaming? Even growling would be good.”

She sucked in breath. “Oh there was definitely growling.”

Giles sighed. “Xander, do be quiet. Buffy, please tell me what he said.”

She threw herself down on the couch, looking very uncomfortable. “You mean before or after he ordered me out for insulting his naked boyfriend?”

Bits of crackers spurted across the table. “Naked? Angel and Spike? Together? Naked?”

“Xander!” Giles glared at him and wiped the table clean with a napkin. “Can you please keep your food inside your mouth?”

“I’m sorry but no one thought to mention the naked part until now?”

Giles ignored him. “They were together?” He looked down. “You think he’s evil?”

“Why would he be evil just because he’s…?” Willow’s voice trailed off as Xander gave her a ‘duh’ look.

Buffy drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. “Do I think he’s lost his soul? No, I don’t. But… he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sunshine either.”

“Angel? Really?”

She gave Xander a glare before continuing, her voice stinging with hurt. “I just don’t get it. _Spike?_ Last time I knew they hated each other. Not to mention the whole male part.”

Giles coughed and took of his glasses. “Yes, well… Angel was rather… upset when he found out about the chip. His feelings towards Spike were fairly obvious.”

Buffy turned to him with a frown. “You never told me that. When was this?”

“About a fortnight ago. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to needlessly upset you. And to tell you the truth I was just happy to get Spike off our hands.”

“You should have told me.” She stood up, arms hugging her body. “Might have given me some warning. Especially since you were the one who sent me over there.”

“Well, I...” He sighed. “All Wesley said was that Angel had taken off with Spike on what he feared might be a mission of revenge. And that Spike was quite unstable and he thought Angel was behaving irrationally.”

“That’s all?”

Giles blushed slightly. “He might have mentioned there being a… physical relationship. Apparently Spike went mad after Angel left him alone in bed after their… copulation.”

Xander scrunched up his face. “Eeww! That’s just… eeww! Way too much information!”

Willow suddenly got up and grabbed her backpack. “I have to go. I have a test tomorrow.”

Buffy frowned. “I thought you said it wasn’t until next week?”

“That was another test. I… I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

Xander gave her a hesitant smile. “Sure, Wills.”

They watched as the door closed behind her.

“Huh. That was weird.”

Buffy nodded. “She was quite shaken by Spike trying to bite her first after he got out. Maybe she’s feeling nervous about him being back.”

“Yeah, could be.”

They turned to face Giles who was looking thoughtfully at the door.

“Giles?”

“What? Oh. Yes. So did they seem… unstable?”

“You mean apart from the nakedness and the blood and the big chunk Spike had just bitten out of Angel’s neck? No gee, they seemed absolutely normal!”

Xander waved his hands. “Again with the TMI!!”

Giles sighed. “Can we focus? He mentioned revenge?”

“Yeah. Well, actually he mentioned spanking Riley and his buddies. I assume he’s talking about the Initiative.”

Giles gave her a sympathetic look. “Buffy, maybe you should call Riley. Warn him off.”

She bit her lip, suddenly looking uncertain. “You think that’s wise? He and Angel aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Not like Angel and Spike anyway.”

“Xander, will you just please…” She took a deep breath. “Look, what if Riley goes blasting in with his team and kills him?”

“By him I assume you mean Angel.”

She waved impatiently. “I’m not setting him up like that. But I can’t exactly let him… There must be a better way.”

“Well, you can go and see him before he heads out tonight. Try and find out what their plans are. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“I can try. He didn’t seem very chatty though.”

They talked for a while longer until Xander’s snoring got too loud and Giles impatiently told them to go home. After the door closed he stood still for a while, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then with an air of authority he put on his glasses and reached for the phone.


	9. Chapter 9

When they finally came to a halt Cordelia got off and stumbled slightly on shaky legs before taking off her helmet and turning to Wesley with a glare.

“I’m never, ever going on that death trap with you again. Never!”

He pulled off his helmet as well and scowled at her. “I’d like to remind you, Cordelia, that _you_ were the one who said we had to hurry, _you_ were the one who told me to ride like the damn wind and _you_ were the one who said if we didn’t get here on time you would remove my testicles and do unspeakable things to them.”

He raised his arm quarter of a second too late, only managing to hit his forehead with his helmet as she banged the back of his head with hers. “Ow! OW!!”

“Don’t be smart with me, mister. I have not forgiven you yet and if you don’t want me to tell Angel exactly who it was that ratted him out to Giles you better behave.”

“I didn’t rat…” This time he managed to duck away. “I didn’t rat him out! I just thought they deserved a heads up if Angel was going on a mission of revenge in their town. I might not be a Watcher anymore but I still have moral obligations.”

“Obligations towards Angel! Obligations towards me! Not _them_. I swear to God if they’re dust I’ll torture you in more evil ways than you could ever imagine.”

“They’re not dust. Giles wouldn’t…” Wesley swallowed, pale and sweaty. “He wouldn’t, would he?”

“He better not.” Her growl would have made Angel proud. And possibly a little scared.

She shoved open the heavy doors and walked inside the cold building. Apart from fresh footprints scattered in the dust the place looked absolutely deserted. She frowned. “Angel? Spike?”

There was no answer.

“Damn.” She stalked through the big room and toward the stairs. “ **Angel!?!** ”

Wesley followed her, looking around with unease. When they came up they paused for a moment outside the only closed door in the hall before Cordelia turned the handle with a determined look.

The room was empty but there was evidence of recent habitation. The bed sheets were rumbled and stained with stuff she decided never to ask them about if she ever saw them again. A tube of lubrication lay on the bedside table. Unable to contain herself she checked the brand. Oh. Oh! Eeww! She cut off the very disturbing thoughts and looked around.

Apart from the bed and the squeezed tube the room looked abandoned. No clothes or bags or whatever it was they would have brought with them. Maybe they had just moved location? Or maybe they’d decided to pay Buffy a visit?

In broad daylight…

“Cordelia.”

She turned around and her heart sank. “They’ve been taken.”

We shook his head. “We can’t know that. There’s no sign of struggle and you know Angel would have put up a hell of a fight. Maybe they just…”

“Wes. He would never have left without it.”

Wesley swallowed and looked down at the leather coat in his hands. “No. I know.”

She defeated sat down on the bed, only too late realising what exactly it was she was sitting on and jumping up with a shudder. “We have to do something. Giles! Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

“You really think…”

“Wesley, this is no time to be in denial. You betrayed them into the hands of the man who will do anything to protect his little Slayer. And let us not forget the whole ‘Angelus killed my girlfriend’ thing. Because I’m sure he hasn’t.”

“But…”

She rolled her eyes. “You told him Angel and Spike were coming to Sunnydale for revenge. Did you think he’d invite them over for tea and crumpets? Wake up and smell the potential dust of dead vampires in the air!”

“I never meant… ”

“Shut up. And let’s go. And this will definitely be the last time I ride with you.”

\----------------------

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Stop banging on the bloody door!” Giles’ tired face looked taken aback as he saw them. “Cordelia, Wesley. What are you doing here?”

“You bastard!” She pushed inside, poking him hard in the chest. “You sold them to those insane soldier boys? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“What? What are you…?” He looked at them both in bewilderment.

“Angel and Spike are gone from the mansion. You telling me you had nothing to do with that?”

He stared at her and then he stepped back in surprise. “What? Are you sure? Maybe they just…”

“I found this.” She snatched the leather coat from the very uncomfortable looking Wesley and shoved it at him. “You ever known him to leave this anywhere?”

“But…” He blinked. “I don’t understand. I talked to Buffy just a couple of hours ago and we agreed she would wait and confront Angel later today. Try and change his mind before he went and did something rash.”

“She knows they’re here?”

“Well, yes. She talked to them this morning.”

Cordy raised her eyebrows. “Talked?”

“All right.” He sighed. “They argued and Angel practically threw her out. But by the time she left here she was calm and I know what you think but she wouldn’t have gone back to stake them and I don’t believe she would have told Riley without talking to Angel first.”

“Which leaves us… you.” Cordelia glared at him. “Who else did you tell?”

“Now look here, I won’t stand to be interrogated like some damn criminal!” Giles gave her his best glare, irritated when it didn’t make any impact on her. “Wesley and I agreed that Angel and Spike couldn’t be let loose on a revenge mission in Sunnydale. These are human beings, for God’s sake! I will not let them be led to slaughter because of some misguided loyalty toward Angel.”

Wesley shook his head. “But we didn’t agree upon selling them to the Initiative. At least do I not remember that part. Who else, Giles?”

Giles held his stare for a moment, then sighed and took off his glasses as he sat down on the edge of the couch. “Willow and Xander were here but they wouldn’t have told anyone. Willow is too damn romantic and Xander dislikes Riley almost as much as Angel. I swear that boy will never grow out of his infatuation with Buffy. And I’m sure he was going to meet up with that girl of his anyway.”

Cordelia snorted. “Xander has a girl? Oh wait, don’t tell me. The obnoxiously rude vengeance demon.”

Wesley coughed but when she turned to look at him he was studying a painting on the wall with great interest.

Giles rolled his eyes. “Anya, yes. And after they left I…” He stopped. “Oh bugger.”

“What?”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head in self-reproach. “I called Willow because she seemed upset for some reason and I wanted to make sure she was all right. We talked for a while and when she hung up I thought I heard an extra click. I put it down as an echo but…”

Wesley sighed. “They tapped your phone. I assume Riley knows Buffy’s the Slayer?”

Giles scowled. “They all do, the whole bloody Initiative. Not my idea let me assure you. That Walsh woman…” He shook his head in disgust. “Most disagreeable.”

Wesley stared at him in disbelieve. “You’re telling me that a big secret government military, which has resources and technology we can only dream off, and supposedly the morals of a toad, knows that Buffy is the Slayer? And you haven’t taken any precautions to protect yourself from them? Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me! I had no reason to believe…”

“Well, now you bloody well do!” Wesley stood up, angry. “We have to get them out of there. And you better pray we’re not too late.”

\-----------------------

The blindness of the white hit him like a vicious blow. He flinched back, a mantra of ‘Nonono….’ getting louder and louder in his head until it burst out in a wail of terror.

“Spike, calm down. Spike! You need to calm down. Please! Will!”

He fought the restrains blindly, screaming his desperation into the palm clutched over his mouth. He was back! They had found him, had locked him up in the hell that had been haunting his dreams for what seemed like forever. It couldn’t be true. Oh please God , don’t let it be true. Wake up, he had to wake up!

“Will, stop! Please, Will. I’ll get you out. I promise. I won’t let them hurt you. I’ll never let them hurt you again.”

_'Stop talking! Stop telling me lies upon lies upon lies. They will come and take me and hurt me and oh God, I can’t take it. Not again. He promised me, never again. He promised. He promised!'_

“Please, Will. Please. I love you. I’ll never let them hurt you. Never! Just please, stop! Please…”

It wasn’t so much the words that finally penetrated his horror as the sound of the voice, choked up with despair. He stopped fighting, his body shaking violently with shock, and slowly the face in front of him came into focus.

Angel was staring at him, eyes glittering and brimmed red. Hesitantly he released his tight hold around Spike’s body, gently cupping his face. “That’s good, Will. That’s good. Can you see me?”

“Angel!” Spike grabbed him by the arms, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt. “Don’t let them take me. Please! I can’t… I can’t…”

“Sshh, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out.” Angel kissed him hard before pulling him into a tight hug. “I promise, they won’t touch a hair on your head.”

“Not… not my head I’m worried about.” Spike’s hoarse laughter turn into sobs and he buried his face in Angel’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Angel. It’s all my fault. I never should have dragged you back here, never should have…”

“It’s okay.” Angel pulled him away, raining kisses over his face, stroking the damp hair gently. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s what we came for, right? The big fucking Initiative. So they found us first, doesn’t mean we can’t still kick their asses.”

Spike shook his head. “No. Oh God. How could I be such a bloody idiot? I’m gonna get you killed. They’ll take you and hurt you and it will all be my fault. All my fucking fault!” He pushed away, backing toward the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry.” He slid down the wall and curled up, banging his head repeatedly against the white surface.

“No. No, Spike.” Tight arms around him, a soft palm pillowing his head, shielding it from the hard wall. “Sshh. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get us both out of here, I promise. Please, Spike. You have to stay calm or they’ll sedate you again.”

He stilled and turned his head slowly, staring at Angel’s blurred image. “A… again?”

“You don’t remember?”

Spike shook his head. His stomach clenched. “How long… how long have we been here?”

“About two days.” Angel looked at him tiredly. “You don’t remember anything?”

“Two days? We’ve been in here two days?” The despair was swallowing him but he fought back, needing to keep sane if only for a moment. ”What… what happened?”

“Long story. Let’s get you up.”  
  
Angel pulled him to his feet and over to the low bunk. Once he had Spike settled in his arms he pulled him tighter, as if he was trying to squeeze the terror out of him.

Spike wanted nothing more than to relax into those safe arms but the whiteness of the room and the glass wall kept him on the edge of terror. When Angel kissed him he turned his head away. “Angel, no. They have cameras. They’re watching us.”

“I know.” Angel turned his head back toward him. “Let them watch.”

This time the kiss was harder and he closed his eyes, allowing Angel’s tongue to slip inside, thrusting into his mouth with an air of possession. Angel’s fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing them as tight together as possible. When he finally let go Spike would have been willing to surrender to whatever he asked, cameras be damned.

“Okay?”

He nodded, breathing heavily.

Angel studied him for a moment then leaned back, fingers still braiding Spike’s hair. “They came suddenly out of nowhere. I woke up and there they were. Uncle Sam sure teaches them stealth.” He frowned. “Maybe they could give me lessons. Anyway, I woke up and then you woke up and… freaked out a bit.” He smiled. “Man, you fought like a banshee.”

Spikes snorted. “You mean I threw a punch and fainted like a girl.”

“No! Or… yes. Well, sort of. You growled and shoved me behind you and went for the leader. Then you screamed and fainted like a girl.”

Spike sighed. “Oh great. Some Big Bad I am.” A violent shiver ran through him and he closed his eyes. A loser. A fucking useless loser who had doomed them to die here in this place. Or worse. Much, much worse. Oh God. Nonononono…

Angel shook him out of his despair. “Did you not hear me? You attacked _them_ , the ones that did all those things to you, who have starred in your nightmares for months. Went for them just like that even though you knew you had no chance of ever winning. To protect me. Hell, you’re my big hero.”

“Haha. Funny.” He turned away in shame.

“I’m not joking. Don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than right that moment. Fangs and fists, yelling at me to run before you screamed ‘Don’t touch him, you bloody bastards!’ and went for the biggest motherfucker of the lot. It was absolutely priceless.”

Spike was silent for a while. Then he started chuckling, shaking his head. “Please tell me I at least got in a good bite.”

Angel smiled. “Never even touched him. Just ‘aaargh!’ and flat out on the floor. Sorry.”

Spike pouted. “You know, I don’t mind you lying to me if it’s for a good cause.”

“Okay.” Angel frowned in thought. “You ripped his head off and used it as a bowling ball, killing them all in one strike?”

“Liar.” Spike smiled faintly. His head hurt. “Then what?”

“Then they threatened you with a stake to the heart, told me to get dressed, took your clothes and last thing I remember someone raised a stun gun. Then I woke up in here to you curled up on the floor, screaming your head off. Before I managed to calm you they came in and shot you with some kind of sedative. You’ve been in and out of it ever since.”

Spike frowned. “It?”

Angel hesitated, his hold tightening. “You’ve been… disturbed. Hallucinating, raving… crying. It’s when you start screaming and hurting yourself that they sweep in with their big guns, shooting you down. Apart from that they haven’t touched us.”

He paused, the word ‘yet’ hanging in the air. “Will, your mind … I’m not sure if it’s the drugs or the chip or…”

Spike swallowed. “I’ve gone insane?”

“Yes.” Angel’s voice was quiet.

He was silent for a while. Then he looked up at Angel, trying to at least sound optimistic. “But now I’m okay, right? Well, as okay as I can be locked up in this place. This Hell.” He shivered. “We can make plans now. Figure out how to get out of here.”

The look in Angel’s eyes was terrifying. “Will…”

“What?”

“This is the third time I’ve had this conversation with you. You’re not okay. And it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

\-----------------------

“Are they mating again?”

“No, ma’am. Just talking. Same old, same old. Assuming it follows the pattern there will probably be some mating in a little while if you care to wait?”

“No. Just send me the tapes.”

“Sure, ma’am. Will do.”

He kept his face straight until she’d left the room. Then he turned to the soldier sitting beside him watching the monitor, leering suggestively. “Bet I know what she wants those for.”

“You’re out of line, soldier. Watch your mouth or I’ll make sure you never use it again.”

The other man looked taken aback. He opened his mouth but closed it again and swallowed. “Yes, sir. I apologise, sir. It won’t happen again.”

There was no answer and the room got quiet except for the subdued sounds of desperation from the speakers. When movements of comfort changed into touches of passion Riley reached out and turned off the sound before settling back again, eyes never leaving the screen.  



	10. Chapter 10

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“I thought you liked playing dress-up.”

“Hey! That was one time! And just the panties, not the bra.”

“What? Eeww! I was talking about you going all G.I. Joe on Halloween! I don’t know what you’re on about but don’t ever mention it again!”

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Children, please. Buffy, you see anything?”

“Trees, trees and more trees.” Buffy sank down on the grass beside him, leaning her back against the tree trunk sheltering them. “I don’t know about this, Giles.”

“It’s not too late to back out. Maybe Riley...”

She shook her head. “I can’t involve him in this. He’s made quite clear how he feels about Angel. And Spike? No chance he’d help rescue him. And please tell me again why we’re doing that.”

“Because without him Angel is a broody, boring...” Cordelia paused and sighed. “Because without him he’s miserable.”

Buffy bit her lip and stared at the stake in her hand. Then she hugged her knees, resting her chin upon them. “He really does love him, doesn’t he?”

Cordelia gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yes, he does. And Spike really does love him back, you know. It’s weird but there you have it.”

“I still can’t believe it. Spike!”

“He’s changed, Buffy. What they did to him... He’s had a very hard time dealing with it.”

“Hard time dealing with not being able to kill people?” Buffy snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s been a nightmare.”

Cordelia looked at her. “You really don’t know?”

Buffy turned to her, frowning. “Know? Know what?”

Giles cleared his throat. “I think perhaps that conversation should wait, Cordelia. I have a feeling Spike wouldn’t quite appreciate his private life being broadcasted like this.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. “You know what she’s talking about? And since when do you care about Spike’s feelings?”

He sighed. “I don’t. I do however care about my own health and when it comes to Spike, Angel isn’t exactly rational. He might quite possibly take offence if he finds out.”

Xander rolled his eyes and shook his head. “See, this is what I don’t get. We’re going to risk our lives, well mainly my life, to rescue a murderous vampire and his irrational boyfriend? Where is the sense in that?”

Cordelia glared at him. “He’s not murderous. Chip, remember?”

“Who cares? He’s probably murdered millions of people in his time. Personally I don’t have any problem with them filling his head with tons of little chips. Both of them. Make it so they blow their brains out if they even think about biting someone.”

Cordelia stared at him and then she punched him hard in the arm. Again and again under hissed protests that soon turned into louder and louder complaints until finally Xander managed to grab her arms and hold her still.

“Ow! Stop it! What the hell did you do that for?”

She glared at him. “You stopped me.”

“Well, yeah. It hurt!”

“See, he can’t do that. He can’t stop them, he can’t fight back. They can do anything they want to him without him being able to do shit about it.”

“So?”

“Anything, Xander. Do you understand? _Anything_. And they did.”

He stared at her and then his face went visibly pale in the dark. “No.”

She nodded. “Yes. And I know you wouldn’t wish that on your worse enemy.”

He swallowed. “No. I wouldn’t.”

“Ok then?”

“Ok.”

Buffy looked from one of them to the other. “What are you on about?”

Xander shook his head, eyes still locked with Cordelia’s. “Nothing. Let’s do this thing.”

Buffy watched him for a minute then pursed her lips. “Ok. But when this is over we’re gonna have a talk. I don’t like secrets.”

Xander turned and looked at her. “No, Buffy. We’re not. Not all secrets are yours to know.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Leave it.”

She opened her mouth to argue but a look from Giles made her pause and she took a deep breath before nodding. “Ok. Your call. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s do this then.”

\----------------

“And there is no radical change?”

“Nothing to speak of. Its lucid periods are shorter and further between as predicted. Its behaviour is getting more primal and childish with every episode. Long periods of crying and screaming, recurring attempts of self-harm… Like I said, nothing we hadn’t already predicted.”

“Good. And the other one?”

Dr. Angleman smiled and flipped over the files on his clipboard. “Now there’s an interesting specimen. The effect on it is dramatic, its behaviour almost paternal. Very protective of its offspring. I’d say its emotional breakdown is the most fascinating.”

He flipped through the papers on the clipboard, tapping it with the tip of his pen. “Although it manages to keep strong during the other one’s clear moments it breaks down shortly after it succumbs to insanity. During the six days I’ve been studying them its mental strength has deteriorated severely. I’d say a few more days and it will start losing its control completely.” He nodded enthusiastically, and put the pen back in the pocket of his white coat.

“I’m not sure about this.”

Walsh turned and looked at Riley, studying his face for a moment. His gaze didn’t falter but his discomfort was evident in the ticking in his jaw.

“Sympathy, Agent Finn? I’m surprised. I’d think you of all people would have found this experiment justified.”

He blinked in surprise and then his eyes narrowed. “Sympathy has nothing to do with it, ma’am. I just wondered if maybe we should try other methods as well. Before the good doctor drives them completely mad. After all this is the first proper opportunity we’ve had to study the sire-childe relationship in vampires.”

She pursed her lips in thought then nodded slowly. “Perhaps. Any suggestions?”

“I’m not a scientist, ma’am.”

“I’m glad you realise that.” She ignored the flash of disdain in his eyes. “But your idea has merit just the same.”

She turned back to the doctor who had been following their conversation first with irritation and then with an obvious smugness. “They have been together ever since they were captured?”

“Yes. There were some concerns regarding the older one since it’s not been modified as of yet and the best way to control it seemed to make it realise how its behaviour would affect its... childe. After a couple of electric shocks it got the point.”

“Well, break them up. Move the younger one into the room across. It might be interesting to see what the short distance will do to them. They will still be able to see each other through the glass but no physical contact. And audio. Connect their intercoms.”

“Are you sure...?”

“I think we’ve established that you are not the scientist here, Agent Finn. Any practical reason why this would be ill advised?”

His lips tightened. “No, ma’am. Not as long as strict precautions are withheld.”

“Of course. I’ll leave that to you.”

She turned and walked out, Dr. Angleman trotting behind her like a faithful dog, leaving Riley standing stoic in the middle of the room. After a while he took a deep breath and turned to the monitor. The couple was still huddled together in the furthest corner. Angel was trying to keep Spike from clawing his eyes out, his own glittering and hopeless. They almost seemed human in their despair.

Clenching his jaw Riley straightened up and nodded to the bored looking guard before leaving the room.

\----------

“Sshh. Calm down, Will. Please calm down. I can’t... please, Will.” However much he tried he couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice.

“No! No! Don’t touch me! Don’t! Don’t!”

“It’s me, Will. It’s Angel. Please.”

Spike’s eyes blinked and then widened in recognition and he grabbed Angel, digging his fingers into the unsteady arms that were trying to keep him still. “They’re coming! They’re coming to take me! Help me! HELP ME!!”

“I’m trying! Don’t you know I’m trying?” Angel choked on his words and pulled him tighter, squeezing his eyes shut as he buried his face in Spike’s matt and sweat damp hair. “I won’t let them take you. I’ll never let them hurt you, Will. Never!”

The sound of the door sliding open made him twist around, eyes glowing with feral anger. He rose up, shoving Spike behind him. Not again. Not again.

The shot slammed him into the wall and he crumbled, crushing a terrified Spike beneath him. He jumped up again but before he had time to launch forward his legs buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor, the paralysing drug travelling so quickly through his veins that already he had trouble moving his fingers, his face going slack and the growl dying in his throat.

“Angel! ANGEL!”

He lay like a heap of bones and meat, unable to even blink as the soldiers pulled Spike from behind him, silent and cold to the terrified screaming. Backing him into the corner one of them raised a stun gun and jolted him until he fell down, shaking with the strong electric pulses running through his body. Then they dragged him out of the small cell and across the hall, dumping him onto the cold floor. The glass doors slid shut and Angel watched in horror as they undressed the lifeless body and then left Spike lying naked and alone on the floor.

Time ticked by.

Slowly he felt the drug give away, the tingling in his nerves and muscles maddening. He wanted to scream and yell, to run into the glass door until either it or he gave away. He wanted to...

The sound of terrified hyperventilation filled the small cell as it echoed from the speakers in the corners. When the hoarse voice began whimpering his name Angel turned on his side, hid his face in his hands and sobbed quietly.

\---------------

He sat in front of the monitors, watching with an air of indifference, the only sign of emotion was a drop of sweat lingering at his temple. After the first half hour he’d turned off the sound, leaving the room silent, except for the rapid beating of his heart.

Angel, Buffy’s “forever love”, had stopped throwing his weight at the door some time ago, resigning himself to standing plastered to the glass, the blood ebbing from his forehead and knuckles leaving gory patterns on the see-through surface. His yelling had quieted as well but his lips were still moving and Riley knew that if he turned on the sound again he would hear him whispering Spike’s human name over and over, begging for his forgiveness.

On the other screen his friends, his brothers in arms, were taking turns beating Spike’s naked body to a bloody pulp, using fists and belts, kicking him repeatedly with the steel capped toes of their boots. He’d long since stopped responding but that didn’t seem to matter, if anything it made them more enthusiastic

Riley knew they were doing this in his name, at some extent at least, revenge for the humiliation he’d suffered at Angel’s hands, humiliation that reflected back on them as well. All for one and one for all and all that crap. He’d played ignorant last time, knowing but not acknowledging, not taking part but at the same time not objecting. Secretly it’d felt relieving letting other people take out his anger. Keeping his hands clean while the creature that came closest to the one he really wanted to hurt was rubbed in filth.

He hadn’t known exactly what kind of filth though until after it was done, after Spike had escaped. A slip of a tongue, a rude remark made after too many drinks. He’d frozen and looked at the oblivious perpetrator in shock. Then around at the others, smug faces grinning and sharing a dirty secret, smacking their lips and grabbing their cocks through the rough denim of their jeans. The seedy leers making him shiver and he drew back, heart hammering in his chest, acid forcing its way up his throat.

It was never discussed again although he sometimes caught them sharing a joke or a look he just knew he didn’t want to comprehend.

Whatever revenge he’d been looking for it wasn’t that.

And now...

Now he was faced with a problem. It wasn’t that he cared about vampires, they were after all monsters, murderers. He didn’t care too much about the experiments induced on them though. In his opinion wild dangerous animals should be put down. He’d had to do it himself to a dog or two back home and it was never a pleasant experience but it had to be done. That’s what he envied Buffy for. No ulterior motives behind her work. Just one simple goal, to rid the world of evil in whatever shape or form. So liberating. So pure.

And evil they were, he had no doubts about that. He had read up on their history. Angelus was notorious for his cruelty, his way of playing with his victims both before and after death was chilling. William the Bloody was not quite as imaginative but his methods were just as cold if not as calculated. Impulse and passion seemed to have ruled his actions. And together they had roamed the world along with their female companions, leaving a trail of dead bodies.

Angel’s soul made no difference to Riley no more than Spike’s chip. Both were a leash, a thin rope keeping them from biting a passer-by’s leg, or more correctly his neck. Who knew when they’d snap? Supposedly it only took Angel a moment of happiness and the chip... well, it was believed to be safe but it was still at an experimental stage. For all he knew one of those electric shocks his friends had so much fun inflicting on Spike would cause it to shortcut and...

So yes, evil. Definitely evil.

Still, that didn’t make this right. He’d kill a rabid dog but he’d never fuck it. What they’d done didn’t just make him feel disgusted it made him feel wrong as well. Morally wrong as if it was in some way his fault, that it had been his cock forced down that slender throat or into... he couldn’t even think that thought through.

He wasn’t a prude, he knew lots of people did that, even straight ones. He’d thought of it sometimes, caught himself staring at Buffy’s perk ass, imagining what it would feel like. Tight and forbidden. Dirty. Delicious. So it wasn’t a homophobic thing, that didn’t bother him. Not much. It just... wasn’t right. It was a violation. It was... rape. Even if they were animals.

The thing was that despite everything Spike didn’t come across as a monster. And neither did Angel for that matter. Watching them interact this last week had been disturbing to say the least. Only when Spike morphed in pain or terror or Angel turned on them to protect Spike from the daily drugs hidden in the tranquiliser shots did their true self come through and every time it shocked him that he’d forgotten what they really were.

Not human. Not human.

Shifting his eyes from one monitor to the other it was very hard to remember that right now.

He was watching Angel’s face, searching for the monster he knew hid behind those broken eyes when suddenly they widened and filled with renewed terror. Angel pulled back and ran into the glass again and again with extraordinary strength after a week of starvation, mouth open as he screamed out in despair. Riley looked over to the other monitor. Oh shit. Without thinking he jumped to his feet and ran out of the room.

\----------

“How do you know it’s this way?”

“I know because this was the only section they wouldn’t show me. So it’s got to be here.”

“Ah! The logic of elimination. Great.”

“Sshh. Remember you’re an obedient soldier and I’m...”

“My naughty nurse?”

“Eeww! I’m the strict scientist!”

“Even better. Rulers and sexy math.”

“Xander? I’m telling Anya.”

“Ok, all done now.”

“Good.”

They made their way as innocently as possible toward the locked door. A few steps away it opened and a couple of white-coated men came out. Buffy nodded to them, her glasses tipping toward the end of her nose, and she pushed them up again in annoyance before catching the handle and slipping inside with an air of authority, Xander tight on her heel.

They walked along an empty hall, checking the signs on the doors for clues to where they’d lead. Suddenly Buffy tugged at Xander’s sleeve and pointed toward a door marked Cells 101-120.

“Look promising?”

“Very.”

Glancing around quickly she walked over and without hesitation kicked the door hard, causing it to slam open, the lock broken. Then they ran in and stopped short.

The walls were made of glass but when she looked closer she realised they were doors to cells, each of them containing at least one demon. She recognised quite a few of them. Some were seriously dangerous, others not as much. She even recognised a Marl, a species mostly known for their unique musical talents and a lust for donuts as evident by their humongous size. Big but harmless.

All this she took in in a matter of seconds, her attention almost immediately fixated on the soldiers standing in front of one of the cells, staring at her frozen as if caught in the middle of an argument. Someone was screaming and banging like a maniac and it took her a moment to recognise the hoarse and desperate voice. Through the loud yelling an inhuman wailing sound pierced the air, chilling her to the bone.

“Buffy?”

Riley pushed through the crowd and walked toward her, shock and what she’d best describe as fear written on his face. “What are you doing here?”

The yelling stopped abruptly, making the wailing even more prominent. It took no genius to figure out who it belonged to. She looked over at the group of soldiers, most of them bare-chested, their knuckles covered in blood. A couple of them hurriedly did up the zippers on their pants and all of a sudden it hit her, what Cordelia had been trying to say.

Shocked she glanced back at Xander and saw the fury in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Unwilling to think further, to contemplate what it had all meant, his talk about secrets, she turned back and unleashed her anger at the man standing before her. The “normal” guy in her life.

“What am _I_ doing here? _Who_ are you doing in there? _This_ is the Initiative’s big secret? The raping of vampires? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He stepped back, pale with shock, eyes shifting. “What? No! I didn’t... I came to stop them. I...”

She spit on the floor. “You disgust me. What was this? Jealousy? Revenge? Payback on my ex-boyfriend for kicking your ass?”

“Buffy, no! I...”

“Oh. You didn’t know. You had no idea this is what your pals get up to on a dull Saturday night? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this has nothing to do with me. Maybe you just get off on raping demons, any kind, anytime, anywhere.”

“They deserve it, these two. They’re killers, animals. Monsters.”

She turned her glare on the big black man towering over her. “Forrest, right? You think rape is a deserving punishment? Let me tell you, I’ve known a lot of monsters, faced a lot of demons, but this is the first time I’ve really felt disgusted. I’d say the biggest monsters in here right this moment are you.”

“Just because you fucked one of them yourself...”

She looked at him and then walked over and lay her hand against Angel’s bloody cheek that rested exhausted on the glass, his red-rimmed eyes watching her with a glint of hope.

“Yes, I did fuck him. He might be a demon but he’s still a better man than any of you will ever be. He did his deeds in the name of evil, you do them in the name of good. So who is the monster here?”

Abruptly she turned around, flinching at the sight of Spike’s naked body, covered in blood and bruises, fingers and other bones at impossible angles. He was trembling violently, the piercing wailing sound still vibrating his abused throat.

“I’m taking them out of here. We can do this nicely or I can knock you out and then let Angel loose on you. Your choice.”

Forrest growled and ran at her, finding himself lying flat on the floor before he was even half way there. He tried to get up only to find a gun pointing between his eyes.

Xander smiled coldly down at him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Head still spinning Forrest looked over to find half of his mates lying knocked out, the other half trying without much success to fight that annoying girl. Within seconds the only one standing was Riley, still looking pale with shock. Again Forrest tried to raise himself up but then a sharp pain hit his temple and everything went black.

Buffy stood still, hardly hitching her breath. Her eyes were cold, her body ready to strike. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“The security is down in this section because of...this.” He swallowed. “If you hurry you can get them out before anyone notices. I have keys and I know another way out.”

She blinked in surprise then nodded grimly. “Okay.” She pointed to Angel who was slowly straightening up, swaying on his feet. “Let him out.”

“He might kill me.”

“So could I.”

Riley hesitated for a minute before walking over and unlocking the door, stepping back quickly as Angel rushed past him and into Spike’s cell, pulling the broken body into his arms and cradling it like a child’s.

“I’m here. I’m here, Will. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Oh God, what have they done to you? I tried... I tried...” He sobbed, desperately stroking the blank face, his fingers leaving lines in the bloody grime. “Oh God.”

“Angel.” Buffy laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “We have to go. Now.”

He looked up at her with fear in his eyes. “I’m not leaving him. I won’t leave him.”

“I know. Xander? Clothes?”

“Coming.” He handed her a tossed shirt and then started tugging the boots of one of the unconscious soldiers. “They won’t fit him but it’s better than nothing.”

“Ok. Just hurry. Angel, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

His giggling was chilling. “No. They never touched me. They just...” He rocked Spike’s body. “Oh God. Oh God.”

“Okay, all right. You need to pull yourself together, Angel. For Spike. Can you do that?”

He breathed deeply, then nodded and with a shaky hand accepted the shirt from her.

Dressing Spike was a struggle as he kept shaking violently; jerking away when they touched bruised skin or broken bones. Finally Angel pulled him close and kissed him gently on the lips. Then with a swift strike to the back of his neck he knocked Spike unconscious.

“It’s better this way.” Her voice was low and shaking.

He didn’t answer, just continued his task until it was done. Then he stood up, swaying on his feet.

She grabbed his elbow, steadying him. “You going to be ok?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just...” He swallowed. “...weak. Haven’t eaten in...” He shook his head to clear it. “How long have we been here?”

“Six-seven days.” She studied him for a moment. “You want one of them?”

He looked at her in shock. “What?”

“Not drain him. Well, unless you really want to. I’m not exactly in the mood to save soldiers tonight so... Well, I won’t stop you. But even a few sips would do you good.”

He looked over at the half naked soldier, blood spattered across his chest, a wound oozing lazily at his temple. His nostrils flared. Then he hook his head and swallowed. “No. I’m not a monster.”

She looked at him and a smile spread across her face. “See, that’s what I was trying to explain to them. Guess they were just not bright enough.”

He smiled weakly. “Think you pounded it into them eventually.”

“Gee, I hope so.” She sighed dramatically. “Teaching is definitely not my calling.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And not a word from you, mister.”

“ _Me?_ What?” Xander came over and helped Angel pull Spike to his feet and together they shared his weight, one arm each around their necks. Riley moved to help but a growl from Angel made him back away. “Although again with the ruler. And the glasses... Ow!”

“You deserved that. Ready?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah.”

“Let’s move then.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to put some extra warnings on this one. It's quite dark and chilling.

He woke up being held down by strong arms, pinned to the cold and dank floor as a splitting pain pierced through his whole body. He looked up and into the dark eyes of a black devil that laughed cruelly and spit in his face before drawing back and that's when he saw the gigantic black cock drilling into him through a big bleeding hole where his genitals should have been. He struggled and screamed, trying to twist away but suddenly there were many of them, huge demons laughing and holding him down. Blood was splattered across their chests and he just knew it was his, could smell his own terror in every drop. Their eyes glowed red and yellow, fangs descended from their gums and slowly they leaned over. With savage bites they fed on him while the black demon pounded into his body, brutally raping his hope away.

Suddenly the face changed and it was Angel, looking down at him with tenderness. “I'll never let them hurt you, Will. Never.”

He smiled but when Spike tried to reach out to him the grin widened and split as Angelus threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“No!”

The head tilted forward, cruel lips smiling down at him once again,. “ _William._ ” The voice was filled with mockery. “Be a good boy for daddy's friends now.”

“Angel, please!” He sobbed with despair.

“Pound him real good one time for me, boys.”

Angelus was still laughing as he split away from the black devil's body and walked away, leaving him with the foul creatures that howled and bore down on him, penetrating him with their fangs and cocks through wounds splitting his skin. The cruel laughter echoed in the too bright room for what seemed like an eternity, providing a rhythm for the devils to thrust into him. He finally stopped screaming, stopped struggling and just lay silent and limp until they finished and slunk away on bended hind legs, licking their lips and leaving a trail of blood tinted semen leaking from their cocks.

He lay still for a long time, waiting for them to come back but the room was silent. With a final effort he got up on his knees and crawled to the open door he could see in the distance. It took hours but finally he reached it and collapsed by the threshold. It was dark beyond the door but he thought he could hear voices talking. Someone was crying. It sounded like...

“Angel?”

He got up on his knees and stumbled into the room. And that's when the pain attacked him. Blinding, piercing pain. Fire burning him up. Bones crumbling, skin melting, eye popping pain.

He turned around but the door which had been just there was now miles and miles away, shining like a white beacon of terror. It had to be better than this though. Had to be...

Slowly he started his painful journey. Every step, every crawl sent lightnings of agonising pain through his whole body but finally he got there, bleeding and broken in more places than he cared to think about. And there they were waiting for him, laughing and sneering on the other side.

God no, he couldn't...

A stab of pain jerked him forward enough that his hand fell across the threshold and they were on him like vultures, pulling and dragging him inside. He kicked and screamed, searching for something, anything, to hold on to but the door was no longer there. There was nothing except dozens of creatures crawling all over him, giggling and cackling as they tore at his flesh. A dark figure stood and watched them, smiling.

“You promised!”

But Angel just laughed and turned his back on him as they started gnawing the flesh from his bones.

And that's how it went for years and decades and centuries and the beginning and end of worlds upon worlds. Each time he crawled toward the Room of Pain the voices sounded stronger but the pain was also worse once he entered it. Somehow he knew that was the right place to be though, this was where he should stay if he ever wanted this nightmare to end but he just couldn't. At least in the other room there was the chance of the devils killing him. That was the only hope he had left.

\----------

“Oh God! Is he...? Oh God.”

“Cordelia, drive!”

“I...”

“They'll be here soon! Drive! Now!”

“Oh God.”

Trembling she put the car in gear and it shot forward, violently protesting before finding its strive and they drove through the empty streets of Sunnydale. Angel cradling Spike in his arms in the back seat, Buffy by his side, sitting half-turned, watching for pursuers. Xander was squished in between Wesley and Cordelia at the front, jaw tense.

Cordelia glanced in the rear-view mirror, for once glad she couldn't see the broken pair. “The others are waiting for us at Giles'.”

“No.” Angel didn't look up. “I'm not letting him anywhere near my boy.”

Buffy sighed in exasperation. “Angel, you both need blood and we have to tend to Spike's wounds. Besides, Giles didn't...”

“No.”

“Then where? They know about the mansion...”

“LA. Take us home.”

“Angel, it's too far. The sun will be up soon anyway.”

“I'd offer my basement but...” Xander gave them an apologising grimace. “I don't think they need more trauma.”

“Okay, home to me it is then.” Buffy sat back and rolled her eyes. “Mom is so gonna freak. But she won't turn you away. For some odd reason she actually likes Spike.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? Riley might...”

“He better not. If he knows what's best for him he'll stay the hell away from me. And he'll keep his buddies far away as well.”

Angel looked up at her, face distraught. “I'm sorry.”

She turned to him, incredulous. “You're sorry? God, what he did...”

“Not for him. For you. You deserve better. First me and then...” He broke off, stroking the blood matted hair sticking to Spike's cracked skull. “I'm sorry.”

She sat silent while the car roared on. Then she leaned over and kissed Angel on the cheek. “You weren't so bad. I mean, apart from the going evil and killing everyone thing. And the no sex thing. And the brooding and the...” She frowned. “Yeah, okay.”

He blinked, still dazed with after-shock. “I _was_ bad?”

She smiled and leaned back. “Nah. You were a great kisser. That makes up for a whole lot.”

“Oh. Okay.” He looked back down at Spike. “Good.”

She sighed dramatically. “Riley's kisses were always so...”

“Boring?” Xander's eyes blinked innocently in the mirror.

“Shut up, Xander! He's not boring. He's...”

“Boring?”

“No! I was going to say hesitant. Like he wasn't sure he was doing it right.”

Xander turned around in his seat and looked at her. “Poor guy. Not like he's had 250 years of practice as some vampires we know.” Xander glanced over at Angel and frowned. “Maybe he could give me some lessons...” He stopped and blushed as the rest turned to stare at him. “Not oral! Verbal lessons! Verbal!” He turned again and slumped down in his seat. “Stupid mouth.”

Cordelia swung the car abruptly to a halt. “Okay, we're there. Buffy, maybe you should...”

“Yeah. You guys wait here. I'll be as quick as I can.”

Wesley who'd been sitting pale and silent the whole ride straightened up. “Maybe I should come with you. Help you put things in the right perspective so to speak.”

“No offence, Wesley. But my mother isn't really fond of Watchers, ex or otherwise.” She paused. “Unless they're seventeen and delinquents, then she bonks them.” She blushed at the looks the others gave her. “Long story. Anyway, I think I better do this alone.”

She hurried inside, leaving the others to sit in awkward silence.

Xander finally cleared his throat. “We should call Giles to let them know...”

Cordelia shook her head. “No. Remember? His phone is tapped.”

“Damn! I better run then. Willow will be mad with worry.”

“You can take the car.”

Xander turned and stared at Angel in shock. “What?!”

Angel was gazing ahead with blank eyes. “My car. You can take my car.”

“Your car? _This_ car? You're lending it to _me_? Your baby?”

“It's just a car, Xander. It doesn't matter.” He closed his eyes. “None of it matters.”

Xander swallowed then nodded. “Okay. I'll take good care of it, I promise.”

“Sure.”

They jumped when the car door was suddenly jerked open. Buffy nodded toward the house where Joyce stood in the doorway, looking tired and annoyed. “It's all right. Let's get him inside.”

She and Wesley supported Angel who insisted on carrying Spike himself. The irritated look on Joyce's face was soon replaced with horror and concern when she saw the state of them.

“Oh my God. You didn't tell me...”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“No. Of course not. Come inside, Angel. Oh God, look at that poor boy.”

“Hardly a boy...” Wesley's voice trailed off and he stood silent as Angel knelt by the couch, whispering into deaf ears, his breath hitching with despair while the others buzzed around with bandages and warm water, talking with stressed voices.

“Just patch him up and then they have to go as soon as it gets dark again.”

“Buffy! You don't really expect them to...”

“Mom, they know it was me. Riley will possibly hold them off but not for long. They'll come looking for them and if they don't kill them they'll take them back and that's even worse.”

“Well, they're not getting into my house...”

“With all due respect, Mrs Summers, they're the government. They won't care what you say.”

“We need to set these bones straight. Angel, can you... Angel?” Cordelia touched his arm gently. “Are you okay?”

The others went silent and turned to look at them.

“I promised him... I said I would never let them hurt him. I said...” He stared down at the broken body. “I promised.”

“Angel, there was nothing you could do. He knows that.”

“I promised him...”

Cordelia crouched by his side and put her arm gently around him. “I know. But you need to push that aside and focus on what you can do for him now. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He took Spike's right hand and with a chilling calmness started to pull on the broken fingers, straightening them out, one by one.

It took them over an hour before all the wounds and broken parts had been seen to. An hour that was mostly spent in silence apart from the occasional hitched breath and subdued gasp. Fifteen minutes into it Giles and Willow arrived with Xander, quickly picking up on the depressing atmosphere and retreating into the kitchen to brew tea and plot how to keep the Initiative at bay for as long as possible.  
  
After a while the others joined them, leaving Angel to deal with the wounds he refused to let them see, let alone tend to. Silently they were all relieved.

“We can put up a spell to prevent them from detection but since the Initiative probably knows they are here that won't do much good.”

“We need a decoy. Something to misdirect them.”

“The car!”

They turned and looked at Xander.

“Angel's car! We drive around until we find a bunch of soldiers and then speed past them, making them believe it's the magnificent duo making a run for it. Then try and keep them busy for as long as we can.”

“That could work. Not that any of us look anything like them...”

“It's still dark and will be for another hour. If we hurry up all we need are leather coats and a blond wig and Willow, you can put some look-vampire-here! mojo on us, right? Then we're good to go.” He looked at them eagerly and smiled when his plan obviously got approval. “ Okay, I call Angel!”

Buffy couldn't help smiling despite everything. “A bit too enthusiastic there, Xander? Sure you're not just in it for the car?”

“Hey! Give me some credit. I'm doing it all for the leather. Cordelia? Care to be Spike?”

“Well, they do say blondes have more fun... Oh why not. You and me, one more time for old time's sake.”

“Okay, it's a plan. And then tomorrow they can borrow Giles' car to get to LA and I'll drive it back.”

“My car? Wait a minute...”

“They can take the Jeep.” Joyce ignored Buffy's surprised look. “Mr. Giles' so-called car hardly makes it around Sunnydale. We're not taking the chance of them frying in the sun because it broke down midway.”

“I'll let you know it's a perfectly fine vehicle and...” He sighed. “Well, all right. It is a bit rusty.”

“We better hurry.”

\-------------

He was never going to forgive him. He was never... But it didn't matter, just as long as he would be all right. That was all that mattered, that Spike was all right. That Spike... Oh God.

“Angel?”

How was he ever going to be all right? What those monsters did to him... Nothing would ever be all right again. Nothing...

“Angel, we need your coat. Okay, there you go.”

If he would just wake up. He hadn't hit him that hard? Oh God, he'd hit him. After all Spike had been through he'd hit him, knocked him out. Maybe he had hit him too hard? Maybe it was that final punch that...

“You should get some rest. Both of you. Buffy is getting some blood from Willy's.”

“I've made up the bed in the spare room. You think you can get up the stairs?”

He'd promised him, told him he would keep him safe. Told him he would never let anyone... But they'd ripped him out of his arms and... Oh god. The screams. And they just laughed. Laughed! Beating and kicking him as he tried to crawl away. Broken his fingers so he couldn't hide his face. And then... No! Monsters!

“Oh okay, easy there. Angel? It's just us. How about we put away those fangs now? Thank you.”

“You need to get out of these clothes. I'll wash them for you so they'll be all nice and clean when you wake up. All right, Angel? Angel? I'm not sure he can even hear me.”

He could feel his soul die just a little when he'd realised what they were about to do. He'd screamed at them to take him, to kill him, to just please, please don't do this. The demon roared and he sobbed that he'd gladly give his soul to them if they just left his boy alone. Just please, please... No! Don't! Don't! Oh God, please don't. Please...

One of them had finished and another was already pounding away when a different soldier came running, ordering them to stop. It had taken him a moment to recognise the tall frame and healthy farm-boy face but when he did he hadn't been sure whether to be relieved or worried that something even worse was about to take place. Actually he'd been so drained he hadn't been able to think of anything but the need to break out and get to Spike.

“Angel? I got some blood for you. Can you sit up? There you go. Do you think Spike will be able to... Okay. That is... I'll leave now. Just yell if you need anything.”

He hadn't believed his eyes when he'd seen Buffy. He 'd thought he was hallucinating, it wouldn't be the first time, and it wasn't until she lay her palm against the glass that he'd realised she was really there. And then finally he was free and Spike was in his arms and... God, oh God.

“So sorry. I'm so sorry, Will. Please. Don't leave me. Please.”

\---------

“You think they're going to be all right?”

Wesley stared out into the dark, shoulders slumped. “I don't know. I really don't know. I'm almost more worried about Angel than Spike.”

Buffy nodded. “I know what you mean. I don't think I've ever seen him so... broken.”

“You know, it seemed strange to me at first, their relationship. I mean, I really thought they disliked each other, hated even. That Angel was only taking Spike in out of some misplaced feeling of obligation. But... It's more than blood, it's more than guilt or loneliness or nostalgia. This might sound stupid but I really think it's...”

“Love?”

“I was going to say destiny but yes, I'd definitely say it's love.”

She sat down on the couch, leaned back and closed her eyes. “I should feel hurt, I guess. And I do, a little, but... I think as soon as I saw them I just knew. I didn't want to admit it but I just knew whatever we once had wasn't just over, it didn't come close to what they have.”

He swallowed. “Had.”

She flinched. “Don't say that.”

“I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not very optimistic.” He turned away from the window and started pacing the room in badly hidden agitation. “Physically he will heal, of course. You can do just about anything to a vampire - safe staking, beheading or immense fire - and it will with time heal perfectly. I think if anything, these soldiers just proved that.” Wes gave a small cold laugh. “But even if most vampires thrive on pain there has to be a limit. And by what Cordelia has been revealing to me about her tête-à-tête with Angel, Spike was never much of a vampire in the first place. Way too human, it seems, emotionally. Romantic notions about love and honour. Never lost his poet heart in a way.”

“You really think he will resent Angel for not being able to hold his promise?”

Wesley looked at her. “Resent? No, I don't think he will resent him. If he gets his wits back I'm sure he will understand there was nothing Angel could have done to prevent it. I am however afraid this ordeal might have had serious effects on Spike's psyche which hasn't been too stable these last months if I understand correctly. Very brittle, his mind, and now... quite possibly broken.”

He took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in such a familiar fashion that she almost smiled. Then he shook his head and sighed. “No, if there's a question of forgiveness, it will be on Angel's side, irrational as that may sound. Knowing him, he will blame himself and I can hardly imagine a graver thing to pardon.”

She sat silent, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. “I still can't believe...” She shivered and looked away, swallowing the bad taste in her mouth. “He tried to deny it but he knew. He knew what the others were doing.”

“Yes. Cordelia said... Spike told Angel that when he was there the first time Riley had recognised him as a member of Angel's family. And that's when it started. Not to say it couldn't have happened anyway but...”

“God! I...” She stopped and shook her head, unable to find the words.

He turned back to the window, watching the growing light. “It's quite disturbing, staring into the face of humanity and seeing the reflection of a beast. Makes you wonder what difference a soul makes after all.”

She didn't answer, her eyes staring blankly toward the stairs.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to warn especially for some dark patches in this one. Just so you know.

A choir.

He lay limp and let it sweep over him. A hundred, no a thousand voices, chanting his name, weeping their grief to the skies. It was beautiful. He wished he could see them, wished he could open his eyes and see their faces. He knew it would be a choir of angels. Of Angels. His Angel. Every single one of those voices belonged to Him and He was the reason he was here. In this room.

The pain was swallowing him. Far away in the distance he could hear the devils beckoning him, promising him everything from pleasure to death if he'd just come back to them. He'd ignored them for so long now their wailing was hardly more than a faint disturbance. He didn't think he'd be able to move even if he'd want to take them up on their offer. He wasn't even sure there was anything left of him anyway, except his heart and the small part of his mind that held on to the tiny sliver of hope that was Angel's voice.

Years ago - or was it decades? - he'd made a decision. No more crawling from one room to another, no more hoping against all reason that whatever he knew was waiting for him it had to be better than where he was that very moment. Too long he'd hoped for death to free him. It was never to be, he knew that now. And even if it felt like all the pain in the world was being inflicted on his body, like every madness ever suffered was eating at his brain, he had chosen to stay here. Because here, in this room, was Angel's voice.

It grew stronger and stronger every day, then another voice was added and another until the choir was so loud it vibrated through the room. So beautiful he would cry if he thought he had any eyes. Angel's grief pierced his heart and he longed more than anything to reach out and comfort him.

Maybe that was what freed him.

It was like a shroud being unwrapped from his body. With each piece of cloth lifted from his skin he felt the smell of death give away and tickling his nostrils was the distinct scent of Angel. The pain faded, day by day, month by month, and slowly he started to feel his fingers, his toes as parts of his body instead of just places of pain. He could taste salt on his tongue, feel the soft touch of trembling fingers upon his skin. And finally, after years of struggling, his eyes fluttered open.

\-------

He blinked. That was all he'd done. Just blinked and suddenly there they were, staring at him. Blue eyes.

“Will? Are you...? Oh god, Will.”

He hardly dared touch him. The cuts were already healing, the bruises fading to a rainbow of colours. Slower than they should but he hadn't been able to make Spike drink even if he'd slashed his throat and thrust the slack mouth to the wound. There hadn't been any response, the body slumped limp and heavy against his and finally he'd buried his face in Spike's hair, whispering his pleas as the blood pumped sluggishly from the open artery. Willow had come in and almost fainted, crying out to the others for help. The fear in their eyes meant nothing to him but he didn't struggle, just lay back as they patched him up. What did it matter anyway?

But now...

Slowly he reached out and touched the bruised cheek. “Will?”

Spike blinked. He opened his mouth to speak but was overcome by a violent cough and left gasping for breath. “An- Angel?”

“Oh God.” Angel pulled him in, kissing him softly on the dry lips. “I thought I'd lost you.”

The blue eyes struggled to focus. “I lost... you.”

Angel cupped Spike's face gently although he felt anything but calm. “I've been here all along. I will never leave you. Never!”

Spike flinched, grimacing when the sharp movement sent flashes of pain through him. “Don't... lie. You said that. Before. But...”

Angel drew his hand back, the guilt stabbing at his heart. “I...” He could feel the suffocating self-hatred cramping his belly and he closed his eyes, lowering his head in shame. “I'm sorry. Oh God, Will, I'm so sorry.”

“They...” Spike's body started trembling violently, healing fingers clawing weakly into Angel's arm.

“I know, I know!” Images flashed before his eyes. He was going to be sick. “God, I'm so sorry. Please, Will...”

Spike shook his head, grimacing with frustration. “Angelus. He... you were laughing and...”

Angel looked up in horror. “No, Spike. I didn't. I would never...” He swallowed the bile in his throat. “You were dreaming. You've been unconscious for hours.”

Spike shook his head again, struggling to clear it. “No. Years. Many, many years. Decades. I...” His trembling turned into cramps and he convulsed on the bed, dry heaving, spittle and blood spotting the pillows.

“Damn. Wait, I'll get help. I'll...” Angel rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants. He'd done this. God, he'd let them take him and...

Spike reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it desperately. “You... you raped me and then... and then...” He doubled over, letting go of Angel's hand to clutch at his head. “You...”

Angel fled in horror, only just reaching the bathroom in time.

“You saved me.” Spike opened his eyes to an empty room.

\-------

She stood still, watching the dark figure from the doorway. Then she took a deep breath and crossed the room, laying a hand gently on his arm. “You should get back to him.”

He didn't answer, just shook his head and continued watching the sun set, golden rays missing him by a fraction of an inch.

“He needs you.”

A slight shiver ran through him, vibrating under her fingers. “He blames me. And he's right.”

She gave him a surprised frown. “Angel, no. I don't know what he said to you but he doesn't blame you. He's asking for you.”

“I can't. I...” His shoulders slumped, eyes closed against her accusations. “I look at him and... I just can't.”

She stood silent for a moment then clenched her jaw and stepped back. “You know, I don't really care right now how you're feeling because he's up there and he's gone through hell and all he wants is to see you. So suck it in, mister and get your butt up there.”

He turned to look at her, eyes dark. “You don't understand.”

“Don't I? You feel guilty because you couldn't stop them and looking at him only makes you feel worse. Well, it's not about you, Angel. If you've got to brood, do it some other time.”

“He said _I_ did it!” With a sudden bout of rage Angel smashed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Then he stood, breath heaving. “That I... _I_ raped him. He thinks...” He closed his eyes in pain.

Buffy quickly hid her shock. “I don't know if you've noticed but he's just woken up from a nasty coma. His head is all banged up and he's making as much sense as Xander on a caffeine trip. He's up there right now talking about angels and devils and a choir dressed in tutu or something. Those drugs Riley talked about are probably still messing up his brain. He doesn't know what he's saying.”

She sighed and took his hand, turning him to her. “He doesn't seem to recognise any of us. He's confused and scared and calling your name. He thinks you left him.”

Angel averted his eyes, breath hitching. “I promised...”

“You promised you would never leave him, right? Well, get up there before you prove yourself a big fat liar.”

He hesitated for a moment but then walked slowly toward the stairs, looking like he had all the sins of the world on his shoulders.

“Angel?”

He paused.

“The sooner you leave the better. It's a wonder they haven't shown up already.”

He nodded and slowly ascended the stairs.

\-------

Riley lowered the binoculars and took another swig from the flask. His hand shook slightly. He was exhausted from no sleep and too much stress. He'd only just managed to convince the team that it was more important to rally up the more dangerous species from the unlocked cells than chase the Slayer and her friends. Thank God they had all still been unconscious when he joined them in Angel's cell where they had been locked up and so could make it look like he had been with them all along. The small lie about overhearing the fugitives talk about Vegas had been accepted as well. It had taken the rest of the night and half the morning to catch those demons they could and plan how to kill the rest.

When the black car was spotted speeding out of town he'd known it was a ploy. What vampire drives into the desert ten minutes before sunrise? But he'd played along, urging as many of them as possible to pursuit, all the while sitting outside Buffy's home in the undercover van, watching their every move. He'd contemplated following Buffy when she snook out but he'd rightly guessed she was only going for supplies - blood as it turned out – and would soon be back. The house had been buzzing with activity until midday when most seemed to have decided to take a nap, Mrs. Summers and Mr. Giles being the exception. Instead they sat on the porch sipping tea and talking quietly. Riley wished he'd brought some listening device.

Then about half an hour ago he'd recognised Angel's tall frame, standing just out of the sun's harmful rays on the other side of the glass windows. Instinct and training had told him to grab the stake-gun from the back and fire. Instead he'd pulled up the flask and taken a big swig. After all he'd done, drinking on the job didn't seem such a big deal. Angel's sudden bout of rage had shaken him and again he wondered why he hadn't killed any of them. God knows he'd been entitled to, to tell the truth. Riley clutched the flask in his hand, the sight of Buffy and that thing together still making his heart race, as misplaced as that jealousy had proven. Obviously he had nothing to fear there. He gave a short cold laugh. Not that it mattered anymore.

Time ticked by. They would be moving soon. He watched Mrs. Summers put a cooler in her Jeep and a couple of blankets. Just in case. He smiled weakly, for a fraction of a second missing his own mother until he imagined the look on her face if she ever found out what he'd done.

After a few minutes the unknown dark haired man got out and started walking swiftly down the street. He was wearing motorcycle gear. He had to be the owner of the bike he'd spotted outside Mr Giles' apartment when he'd made his rounds earlier. Riley watched him disappear around the corner before turning his eyes back to the house. The sky was darkening.

Any minute now.

\------------

“He can't walk, not with that broken hip, so you'll have to carry him.”

Angel nodded, stroking Spike's hair back. He'd have to wash it, it was still sticky with blood and...

“The drugs will keep him sedated for at least four hours. There's more in that box if you need it. You should probably stock up on some anyway when he's... you know.”

He shook his head. “No. He's had enough drugs shot into him.”

“But...”

He growled warningly. “No. I'll take care of him. No more drugs.”

The others shared a look. Joyce finally stepped forward and crouched by the bed. “I understand what you're saying, Angel, but you can't let him hurt himself. Or you. It's not wrong wanting to protect him, even if it means you'll have to sedate him.”

He raised his head slowly, showing her a glint of gold. “No drugs!”

She stood up and backed away. “Okay, Angel. Your call.”

Buffy popped her head in. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Angel stood up with Spike wrapped up in a blanket in his arms. He paused on the threshold and looked back at the weary gang. “Thank you.” They nodded in unison, keeping their distance.

Once out by the car he lay Spike down on the backseat and gave him a last gentle stroke on the cheek before closing the door and turning around. Most of the gang stood on the porch but Buffy was beside him, looking up at him with concern. He gave her a weak smile.

“I'll be fine. I'll... I'll call you.”

“You better.” She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good luck with him. And I'll let you know if I hear about any military activity.”

“Sure.” He paused. “Thank you. And... I'm sorry. About us and...”

“Go, Angel. Please.”

He averted his eyes and nodded. “All right. I'll... All right.”

He got in and waited until she was back at the house with the others before starting the car and putting it in gear.

“An-angel? No. You...” Spike's voice was slurred but the agitation was still obvious.

“It's all right, Will.” He clenched his jaw. “We're going home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, Will. You're safe now.”

“S-safe?”

“Yes. Sleep, Will. Everything will be all right.”

The soft sigh was followed by a sniffle and when Angel turned around to check, Spike was sleeping soundly.

He turned back and stared blindly at the road ahead, never noticing the van following in the distance.

\-------------

When they finally reached LA he drove through the quiet streets, at last parking in front of the building, absentmindedly noticing lights in the windows. He sat still, taking deep breaths as he tried to clear his head from the chaos of thoughts that had been attacking him throughout the journey.

“Angel?” The weak voice shivered.

“It's all right, Will. We're home.”

He got out of the car and opened up the door to the backseat. Spike was looking up at him with hooded eyes, smiling softly.

“Angel.”

“Yes, Will. It's me.”

He managed a fake smile and hauled Spike into his arms, carrying him in. He hardly acknowledged Wesley, Cordelia and Xander who greeted them with relieved smiles but walked past them and into the bedroom with his burden, laying Spike down on the freshly made bed.

“How is he?”

Angel shrugged and started pulling the t-shirt over Spike's head that lolled to the side even if he was clearly awake, staring at them with a confused expression.

Cordelia laid a reassuring hand on Angel's arm. “Don't worry, I'm sure once the drugs wear off he'll be just as annoying as usual.”

Angel stopped. The t-shirt fell from his hands and he stood with his shoulders slumped and a look of utter defeat in his eyes.

“Angel?”

He shook his head.

“He's going to be all right. Won't you, Spike?”

The glazed eyes slid to her. “Yeah. Be right as...” His voice trailed off as he shifted his gaze back to Angel.

Cordelia smiled down at him. “Well, that's something. How about I heat you some blood?”

“I'll do it.” Angel didn't turn around. “Just... leave us alone.”

“But...”

“Please.”

She hesitated a moment before nodding and beckoning the others with her out of the room and up the stairs.

“Sad.” Spike was watching him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “My fault.”

Angel jerked awake from his dark musings. “No! It's not... I'm just worried, that's all.” He sat down on the bed and stroke Spike's hair gingerly. “My fault. Not yours. Never yours.”

“I'll get better.” As if to prove his words Spike flexed his fingers, that were slowly breaking out of the sedation, and smiled reassuringly.

“Of course you will.” Angel's voice was flat. “Just need a couple of days rest and you'll heal nicely.” He pulled away the sheets and examined the bandages.

“Not there.”

Angel looked up. Spike's eyes looked clearer than they had been for a long time although his eyelids were drooping.

“My noggin. Not as muddled.”

“That's good.” Angel smiled at him but again it didn't reach his eyes.

Spike's face fell slack. “You think I won't. You think I'm damaged.”

“No! I... ” He stood up. “I'm sure you'll be all right. If you don't mind I'm going to take a shower and then I'll run you a bath.”

“Could save wate...”

But Angel had already closed the bathroom door.

\-------

He was right. He did get better as the drug he'd been pumped with during their imprisonment slowly left his system. The wounds faded into scars, the bruises disappeared, the bones knitted together. His mind cleared. More or less.

At times he found himself starting to slip. Mostly it was little things that did it. A word caught on a page, an image displayed on the small television Cordelia had brought him. The shadow of a man passing by on the street beneath his window. His eyes would lose focus and the dark room was suddenly replaced by a bright white one. He would hear shriek laughter and out of the corner of his eye he would sense dark images approaching, crawling like spiders.

“Angel!”

“I'm right here. It's all right. I've got you.”

And just like that it would disappear and he was back again. Sometimes he'd fallen, tumbled to the floor in a heap of terror. Angel would help him to his feet and hold him until the trembling had subsided before telling him to have a lie down or sit by the fire. He wanted to tell him he'd rather have a snog and some cuddling but the distant look in Angel's eyes held him off.

As it was he wasn't so worried about his head. Either it was damaged or it wasn't. Not much he could do about that. He didn't want to think about it so he ignored it just as he ignored the possibility that They would find him some day and take him back.

He had bigger things to worry about.

“Angel, can we...”

“I have to go out.”

“But...”

“Later.”

He sighed and watched Angel's retreating back. What the fuck was the matter with him anyway? Okay, he was feeling guilty, he got that. Not that Angel had anything to feel guilty about. There was nothing he could have done, he'd tried to protect him the best he could but he wasn't God. Of course Angel didn't see it like that. But seriously, he'd had enough of this.

If he could just talk to Angel, make him understand it was okay. Apart from the paralysing terror, which was something he never wanted to experience again, he'd had worse. Not that he remembered much of what happened anyway.

The last thing he did remember was being cold and alone in a cell, trying to hold on to Angel's voice talking to him through the intercom as his mind was slipping back into insanity. Reassuring him with a voice so broken and bereft of hope that he knew they were probably done for. Then he remembered Angel starting to yell and bang the glass and a moment later the door slid open. They came in, one by one, and he realised he was screaming in fear before they even touched him.

After that it all got blurred, just pain upon pain and their cruel laughter grinding into his bones. Bones that he could hear rather than feel breaking, snapping like twigs under the heels of their boots. Blood soon filled his mouth and nose, his ears were ringing, his eyes squeezed shut. He thought he could still hear Angel through the deafening sound of knuckles pounding his flesh, begging them with a broken voice to leave his boy alone. Then slowly he'd slipped away, leaving his mind for a better place.

Except this time he’d never gotten there. Instead he'd been trapped in what he now knew was a nightmare probably induced by the drugs in his system and the despair in his heart. He'd felt like he'd been there for centuries but it had merely been hours. He had a feeling he'd never have gotten out if Angel hadn't been there, calling for him. He owed him his life, and more importantly his sanity.

Obviously Angel didn't see it that way.

Every time Spike tried to talk to him he would cut him off and retreat, making up excuses about work or some other crap. Once he'd been so frustrated he'd left a note on the kitchen table saying 'I don't blame you.' Angel had stopped and stood staring at it for a long time before taking the pencil that lay beside it and scribbling something. Then he'd grabbed his coat and walked out. Spike limped over and picked it up. Underneath his shaky words had been added with Angel's distinct floral handwriting, 'I know'.

That night when Angel came home, smelling of sewers and blood, Spike had been waiting for him but as soon as he opened his mouth Angel turned his back on him, pulling the covers up to his ears.

“Angel.”

“Not now.”

He sighed. “When then?”

“Later.”

The same bloody answer every time.

And of course they never kissed, let alone shagged. Nights were spent lying in the same bed but they might as well have been in different rooms for all the good that did. Only time he did get some cuddles was when Angel shook him out of his nightmares, sweaty hands pinning down his arms as he fought the demons in his head. When he finally came to they would cling together, breathing heavily, bodies slick with perspiration, too caught up in the horror to feel any other emotions.

But as soon as his breathing had slowed down and finally stopped Angel would move away, leaving him shivering as the sweat cooled on his skin and his mind raced with memories. Sometimes he cried. They never mentioned that. As he lay there, feeling cold to the bone, he could hear Angel's eyelashes sweeping over the pillow as he stared into the dark. He was aching to turn around and beg Angel to touch him, kiss him, fuck the horrors out of his body but the fear of rejection kept him from moving. Angel had made it clear enough that wasn't going to happen.

He had a good idea why. He'd hurt for days inside and not in the good way Angel made him feel. Obviously he'd been... But he couldn't remember it so what did it matter? The horrors he remembered was from his dreams and he could push those aside just like every other nightmare he'd had these last months. It wasn't real even if it was based on reality. That's what he told himself so that was how it was going to be, fuck all logic.

“You just need to give him more brooding time.”

“It's been two bloody weeks! How much time does he need?”

“Knowing Angel? About two hundred years.”

“Bugger.”

“You can say that again. Office morals are way down.”

Finally he had enough. When Angel once again left him standing like a fool begging for his attention he growled and limped into the bedroom, pulling out the box that contained the new Doc's Cordelia had gotten him. He'd still been grieving for his old ones - bloody thieving soldiers – and refused to wear them but now was not the time for sulking and he pulled them on, flexing his toes in the too smooth, too shiny leather. Just as well the streets of LA weren't that clean. He'd have these sorted out soon enough.

His coat hung in the closet, still smelling faintly of Cordelia's perfume. He pulled it on and straightened up, ignoring the sudden stab of pain in his hip. He almost felt like his old self. He ran his fingers through his hair. Too long and needed a touch of bleach. Of course Angel liked it this way. He frowned. Did he want to piss Angel off or did he want Angel?

At the moment he would settle for a little bit of attention.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into the dark night. People. Walking, talking, arguing. Smelling like a mixture of food and danger. He almost turned back but he was tired of being weak and dependant on others. It was time he joined the world of the living. Or undead, as it happened.

He stood still for a minute, sniffing the air. Then with a billow of his coat he headed down south, hoping his limp wouldn't mark him as a target to the less moral beings of this town. Which was just about everyone.

When Angel slipped into the bedroom in the early morning hours he only stiffened for a moment before laying down and turning on his side as usual, not making a single comment about the distinct smell of alcohol lingering over the bed or the close cropped white hair sticking out from the covers.

They played this game for a week until one morning Spike wasn't even there when Angel came home but stumbled in a few hours later, cursing and swinging an empty bottle. Angel lay stiff, tension radiating from him. He didn't even flinch when Spike flung his boots to the floor and fell on the bed, still wearing clothes stinking of beer and smoke. Wasn't until he had a coughing fit that left him heaving for breath and struggling to keep from vomiting that Angel finally gave in and turned to him, glowing with anger.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?” Spike glared back, wiping his mouth.

“This. Going out alone, getting drunk. Being an idiot.” Angel sat up, staring down at him with contempt. “Do you remember what got you here in the first place? Do you?”

Spike raised his eyebrow in sarcasm. “Do you?”

“Stop playing games with me.” Angel got up and started pacing the room. “You're going to drink yourself to insanity again? That's the plan?”

Spike got out of bed as well, fists clenched. “That was never the problem and you know it!”

“Then what is the damn problem?”

He stared at Angel, incredulous. “You! You're my fucking problem! Why are you doing this? You won't talk to me, you won't even look at me!” His anger suddenly gave out and he sat down heavily on the bed. “What did I do? What the bloody hell did I do to make you resent me so much?”

Angel froze then he sat down as well, staring at him. “Do? You didn't... Spike, you didn't do anything. It's not...” He looked away. “You didn't do anything, Will.”

Spike sat still, nausea rising in his throat. “But they did. That's it? They what? Fouled me?” He shook his head. “I can't believe you're blaming me for that.”

“I'm not blaming you! Do you really think I'd...” Angel suddenly slumped down, covering his face with a trembling palm. “Me! It's all me. They... they raped you right in front of me! Do you have any idea what...? God!” His shoulders shook, sobs muffled as he bit his lip to keep them in. “I tried... The glass wouldn't break. I ran into it again and again but it was too fucking strong! And I told them, I told them to please, please... I would do anything. Begged them to take me. To...” His voice broke as his body shook with silent weeping.

Spike stood up and walked around the bed, sitting down next to him. He put his arm gently around Angel's shoulders, resting his forehead on his back. “Angel. I don't blame you.”

“I know! Don't you think I know?” Angel shook his head. “You should. You should yell at me and hit me and why? Why don't you fucking hate me? I promised you... I promised!”

“And what were you supposed to do, Angel? There was nothing you could have done. And I wasn't there. I was long gone by then.” He sighed. “Not that it was any better where I went but that wasn't your fault either.”

Angel continued to shake his head, refusing to listen. “You said... you said I did it. That I...” His voice faltered.

Spike sat quiet for a while, slowly stroking Angel's back. Finally he looked up. “I can't be held responsible for my nightmares, especially not when I'm filled up with some ugly chemicals. I saw lots of things, most of them I don't care to recollect, and yes, you were there. You weren't nice but then again I wasn't at a bloody tea party, I was in Hell, mate. You were there once, as I recall. Meet any nice people?”

“But...”

“If I'd been in my right mind I never would have said anything about you being there. Because it doesn't matter. It wasn't real. You did however save me. That was real.”

Angel turned and stared at him. “I didn't save you! That's just it.”

“You did. You did, Angel.” Spike cupped Angel's face, rubbing his thumb over the trail of tears on his cheek. “I was trapped in there and it was worse than anything you could ever imagine. I was losing my mind, I wanted nothing more than to die but you... I heard your voice. I heard you and that's what brought me out. You saved me.”

“But I...”

“No. You have to let it go.” Spike hesitated for a second before leaning forward and placing a kiss on Angel's lips, breathing out when Angel didn't move away. “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. Let it go.” He sat back, watching Angel's lowered head with sadness in his eyes. “Unless you do think I’m damaged. That they ruined me. Did they? Is it me you can’t stand?”

The head snapped up, desperate eyes gazing at him. “No! Will, no. I just…” He looked away, swallowing. “I did do the same thing, you know. Before, when I was…when I was evil.”

Spike stilled. When he lay his hand on Angel's thigh it trembled slightly. “I know. I was there. It doesn’t matter, Angel. We’re not the same we were then. Everything’s different.”

“I wish I could believe that. I want to believe that.”

“Well, that’s a start. Come here.” Spike pulled him down on the bed and they lay facing each other, noses only inches apart. Angel was still shaking and he held on tight to Spike's shoulder, staring into his eyes. Everything went quiet. His grip slowly slackened and he stilled, pupils growing big and dark.

Spike swallowed. “Anytime you want to start snog…”

He whimpered as the fierceness of the kiss took him completely by surprise. Angel pulled him in by the neck, trembling fingers spreading goosebumps over his skin. There were traces of salt on his tongue when it slipped inside Spike’s mouth, filling it as the kiss softened and the desperate grip on his neck slackened. Spike closed his eyes, a happy sigh echoing in Angel's mouth. It had been too long. Too bloody long.

"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

"Sshh. It doesn't matter."

They continued kissing, hands roaming over flushed skin and tugging at restraining clothes.

Suddenly Angel pulled back, frowning. “You don’t taste of alcohol.”

Spike grinned and sat up, wriggling out of his coat and pulling the t-shirt over his head. “Yeah? Fancy that.”

Angel stared at him. “You set me up.”

“Me?” He blinked innocently, popping the buttons on his jeans one by one.

There was a smile tugging at Angel's lips that he was trying desperately to repress. “What have you been doing then, all those nights?”

“Doing? Well… How about you give me a hand there?” He lay back and raised his hips as Angel pulled down his jeans, freeing his cock from its restrains. It swayed above his belly, hypnotizing Angel with its tantalising smell. Smirking Spike propped himself up on his elbows and gave Angel a smile. “Not much. Walking, drinking coffee, chatting.”

Angel frowned. “Who have you been...?”

“Angel.” Spike cocked his eyebrow and nodded toward his erection. “Priorities?”

“But...”

He leaned over and ran his hand up Angel's bare chest until he reached his collarbone where his fingers lingered for a moment before travelling further up and behind his neck, pulling him in closer.

“Later. I'll tell you later.”

The kiss was soft but insistent, leaving Angel gasping for breath, eyes dark and sparkled with gold. Spike leaned back on the pillows and licked his lips, trying to look calm even if he was burning up inside.

“You said you wanted to taste every inch of me. I think you missed a couple.”

The silence that followed was heavy with emotion. Angel stared down at him. One second. Two. Three...

They kissed like they were drowning and their kisses were air. Spike's fingers dug into Angel's shoulder blades as he clung to him, wrapping his legs around Angel's waist, trying to pull him as close as he could.

“God, I...” Angel sucked in his breath, hand clutching at Spike's neck. “Love you. Love you so damn much.”

Spike pulled him back, breathing puffs of air into Angel's mouth as he kissed him again, struggling to keep from breaking down. “Show me.”

He closed his eyes and bit his lip as Angel moved down, licking the sweat from his neck, his chest. Sucking his nipples into a wet and hungry mouth. “Gonna taste you all this time. Not leaving an inch.” He looked up, the dark eyes flaring. “Need to get you clean, boy. Make you mine again.”

Spike shivered. His skin was covered in goosebumps, fine hairs rising to catch Angel's soft breath as he moved further down, pressing kisses into every crevice, tracing every fading scar with his tongue.

“Always yours. I was always...” He moaned and bucked on the bed, thrusting his cock down Angel's throat as he swallowed, massaging the throbbing shaft. Big hands were stroking his thighs, pushing them up and apart and he yielded eagerly. He gasped as Angel sucked in his testicles, rolling them around in his mouth before moving further down, licking the perineum. When the soft tongue touched his entrance Spike pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, biting down to muffle the cry.

“Okay?”

He nodded, unable to speak, eyes squeezed shut. His head was spinning, his throat dry. When Angel resumed his licking he felt a tear slip from under his eyelid and run down his cheek. The stiff tongue pushed inside him, wetting the dry channel.

A sudden fear suddenly hit him and he pushed Angel's head away from between his trembling thighs and sat up, gasping as he covered his face with a shaky hand.

“Will?” Angel sat up and reached out, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. “It's all right. We don't have to...”

“Can you... Can you taste them? I tried...” He swallowed. “I don't know if I got it all out.”

He blinked as his head was tilted upwards. Angel gazed at him softly. “You're all clean. Taste it yourself.”

He leaned in, sliding his tongue between Spike's lips. It tasted of his own salty sweat and precum; of Angel's dinner and Colgate. He hitched his breath, swallowing a sob as Angel pulled him closer, holding him so tight he was within inches of cracking his ribs, kissing him passionately. When he finally pulled back Spike rested his forehead against Angel's chest, eyes closed as he breathed in his scent, skin tingling wherever they touched.

“I'm sorry. I just...”

Angel shook his head. “Never apologise for that. Never.” He kissed the top of Spike's head then rested his cheek upon it, hugging him closer. “It's all right. We don't need to...”

Spike looked up. “No. I mean yes, we do. I need this. Need you. Now.” He smiled and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Been waiting too long for you to back out now, poof.”

Angel laughed softly. Then he gazed down at Spike and licked his lips nervously before letting go of him and lying down on his back. Spike frowned then his eyes widened as Angel slowly raised his knees and parted them. “Have me then.”

“What? No! Why are you...?”

Angel smiled. “Because I want to. Been waiting too long for you too.” His smile faltered for a moment and he swallowed. “Please.”

Spike stared down at him. He could feel sweat running down his back, tickling his skin. “Are you... are you sure?”

“Never been more sure about anything.” Angel took Spike's hand and kissed the palm before placing it on his chest, smiling up at him. “Show me why you love it so much.”

Spike hesitated only a moment before leaning over and kissing Angel softly. He ran a hand down Angel's chest until he reached the cave of his belly, then down the side of his hip and underneath the smooth cheeks.

“I'll show you how much I love you.”

He kissed him again, a deep slow kiss filled with all the things he didn't know how to say.

'This is what we are. This is how much I love you. How much I trust you. With my life, with my heart, with my sanity. This is for everything you've done for me, this is for everything you wish you could do. This is for seeing me, seeing beyond what I'm able to show, what I'm able to admit I am. This is for us. For being more than Sire and childe, for being more than family, more than just blood. This is for love. This is for life. Thank you.'

He trailed his kisses down the tense jaw and rigid neck, over the broad chest and the bellowing stomach, slow wet kisses that gradually eased the tension and left Angel lying limp and relaxed, gazing at him with eyes filled with wonder and anticipation. He hitched his breath when the kisses reached his cock, the only part of him that was still stiff and pounding with tension. Then breathed out slowly as the wet lips passed it by without touching, just blowing softly on the leaking head.

“Will...”

“Soon. Relax.”

The kisses moved down his thigh and prickled his knee, leaving wet marks that cooled in the air and sent shivers up and down his spine until he was covered in goosebumps. Down his calf until they reached his ankle and there Spike reached out and licked him all the way to his toes and under the sole of his foot.

“God! Will...”

“Sshh...”

Spike moved over to the other foot where the same thing was repeated in reverse. As he reached further up the thigh Angel started trembling, unable to keep still as waves of pleasure ran through his whole body.

When the wet lips finally touched his cock, sliding slowly over the head and sucking him into the hollow mouth and down Spike's slender throat he breathed out a strangled moan, arching off the bed, his fists twisting the sheets. He was so lost in the pleasure he didn't even notice his knees being parted further until the silky wetness shifted from his cock and down beneath his sack, pressing at the gate of his virginity.

“Oh God...”

His voice choked as the wet tongue pushed against his entrance again and again until the resistance gave away and it slipped inside.

“Nngh!”

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide open, one hand still twisting the sheets while the other hovered above Spike's head, trembling and twitching, not quite knowing what to do. Then without thinking he slammed it down and started pushing back, needing the intrusion deeper and harder inside. Please, oh please. Oh God!

He whimpered when the tongue slipped out of him, watching with unfocused eyes as Spike sat up and reached for the bedside drawer, taking out a bottle of lubrication before leaning over and kissing Angel softly on the lips. He tasted musky.

“Anytime you want to stop or slow down, just tell me. Okay?”

Angel nodded, unable to breathe, let alone talk. He watched Spike coat his fingers and sit back and still it came as a shock when he felt something push into the wet channel, slender and slick.

“Sshh, relax. Breathe, Angel. Breathe.”

He let lose the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. It came out as a desperate whimper and Spike looked up at him with such concern in his eyes he felt a lump forming in his throat.

“I love you.”

The worried eyes softened and small crinkles formed around them as Spike smiled down at him. “I know, luv. I love you too. All right?”

Angel nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He pushed the finger slowly inside, further and further until his knuckles pressed into Angel's perineum. Then slowly he turned his hand, watching Angel intensely who was staring down at him with wide eyes. He watched the emotions play on Angel's face as he pulled the finger out and then slowly pushed it back inside. The whimpering got louder, the eyes rolled back in Angel's head and he started pushing back, wanting it deeper. After a few extra thrusts Spike drew out and added more slick before sliding two fingers inside, as carefully as he could.

“Oh! Oh God! Will!”

He smiled. “I know. Just wait.”

He moved them around, stretching Angel slowly until he felt him loosen up. Then he pushed further in and curled his fingers.

“Oh Jesus! Will!”

“Like that? That feel good?”

“Oh God! So good! So fucking good.”

Spike grinned. “And that is why I love it so much.”

He pushed against the sensitive gland again and again until Angel was writhing on the bed, slamming his head back on the pillows and moaning out loud, begging him for more. With a small sense of regret he finally pulled out, smiling when Angel pushed down, trying to drag him back inside.

He reached for the bottle and coated his cock generously, the clear liquid running over his fingers and down into his curls. Angel was staring up at him but all nervousness was gone and replaced with hungry lust, his lips bruised and puffy, his eyes so dark they were almost black.

“Okay?”

“Yes. God, I want you. Please.”

He nodded, his breath erratic as he positioned the head of his cock at the now relaxed and wet entrance. Then slowly he pushed inside.

The room went completely silent as they both stopped breathing, staring into each others eyes in combined fear and wonder. When Spike was all the way in he stopped, looking down in shock at his cock disappearing into Angel's body. It felt surreal. For over a hundred years he'd dreamed of doing this and now here he was. He looked up. Angel was blinking rapidly, white teeth pressing down into his lower lip, nostrils flaring. They stared at each other for a while longer and then Spike moved, pulling out and then slowly pushing in again.

“Oh God. Yes.”

He sucked in his breath and repeated the process, slowly picking up the pace until he was holding up a steady rhythm. Angel's eyes were closed, his lips parted as small puffs of air were pressed out with every thrusting. After a while Spike shifted, letting his knees slide back as he placed trembling arms on either side of Angel's heaving chest. He leaned over and captured Angel's lips in a kiss, bodies still and shivering. Then he pulled back, dark eyes locked with Angel's and pushed in hard and quick.

Angel's eyes widened and he opened his mouth in a silent cry. Then arched as Spike drew back and thrust in again and again, deeper and harder each time.

“Oh! Oh! Will! Oh God, Will!”

His hands moved up to grab Spike's shoulders but after a while slid further up, fingers digging into the back of his neck, twisting the short curls between sweaty fingertips.

“Good? Like that, yeah? Like that?”

“Nnngh!”

His toes were curling, his cock ready to burst without even being touched. His balls contracted, the skin wrinkling as the testicles lifted and tingled in anticipation.

“So close. So bloody close. God, Angel, you're so good.” Sweat was running down Spike's chest, his movement getting more erratic as he was rapidly reaching his peak. “So good, luv. So...”

“Stop ta-alking and fu-ucking kiss me.”

Spike's laughter rang through the room. “God, I love you.”

“Yeah? Kiss me then, you bastard.”

Spike dropped down on top of him, shaky arms wrapping around Angel's sweaty chest. He kept on jerking his hips, Angel's cock now trapped between them, as he fucked his mouth violently with his tongue. Once, twice, three times...

Angel's cry filled Spike's throat, meeting his gasp as he with a final thrust shot his release inside Angel who clenched around his cock, milking it empty, his own sliding in the wetness between their bellies.

They lay heaving for breath, their bodies sparkling with tiny drops of perspiration. In the air the musky smell of sex hung heavily, draping them like a blanket. Suddenly Angel started laughing softly, wrapping weak arms around Spike's trembling body.

“What?” Spike pulled back in confusion. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” Angel smiled up at him. “Just can't believe I was scared of this for so long. Why didn't you tell me it was so... good? God!” He laughed again, exhilarated.

Spike grinned wickedly. “Well, the moans and screaming and 'fuck me harder, Angel' would have been enough clue for most people. Not my fault you're so slow.”

Angel rolled them over until he was on top, pinning Spike's arms down by his wrists. “Yeah? Well, obviously you have to speak clearer. Any other things you've been hiding from me?”

Spike quirked his eyebrow and grinned. “This, my friend, was only the beginning.” He licked up Angel's neck until he reached his ear that he nuzzled for a while before whispering into it so low Angel could barely hear him.

“Wait until I've got you tied up, belly down, arms strained above your head as I pound into you, my hips slamming into your bum, one hand clenching your cock while the other grabs you by the hair, pulls your head back and to the side and then I'll lick your neck until it's free from sweat before...” His blunt teeth grazed Angel's artery.

Angel shuddered, closing his eyes as he came for the second time. He slumped on top of Spike who chuckled softly and buried his nose in Angel's sweat damp hair.

Angel groaned. “You're going to be the death of me.”

“Not if you kill me first. Kinda squishing the unlife out of me here, mate.”

Angel smiled lazily and rolled off, moaning in regret when the limp cock slipped out of him. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, fingers twisted together on the mattress between them.

“Sleep. That would be nice just about now.”

“Cordy and Wes will be in soon. I probably should...”

“Angel, luv. They fled over an hour ago. Didn't you hear them?”

“What? What time is it?”

“Don't know. Don't care.” Spike rolled over to his side, slinging an arm and a leg over Angel's chest and knees. “Want to cuddle.” He snuggled into Angel's neck, sniffling sleepily.

Angel chuckled. “Oh, how manly.”

“Dude, you just got fucked up the ass by a whore. Don't think there's anything manly left in you.”

That voice...

Spike tumbled limply to the side as Angel got swiftly to his feet, for the second time in less than a month standing naked and vulnerable against a group of soldiers. Not as many this time though, merely a handful. Forrest stood as their leader, hatred and satisfaction shining in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think? I've come to bring you home. You and your little whore. Or maybe you're the whore this time?” Forrest cast a leering glance at his mates. “What do you say, boys? Think he'll do?”

Angel ignored the rude snickering, sensing Spike slowly sitting up behind him. “It's been three weeks. I find it hard to believe it took you this long to find us. Did your Iron Lady really send you or is this a renegade mission?”

Forrest's grin turned ugly and he took a step closer. “First off, you don't talk about her like that. Second? I don't care what you believe, you fucking fairy.” He took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm down. “Let's just say we had our motivation. Remember Agent Finn? Been disappearing these last weeks, driving off without telling anyone. Gone all funny in the head. Followed him here a couple of days ago to see what he was doing. Right before they send him off to some far ass camp in Who-fucking-cares-a-stan.”

“And you're what? Blaming us?”

“Shut up. We take you back they'll send him back, that's what I figure.” He spit on the floor and scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Plus the boys have been feeling a bit itchy. They've been missing their whore. And what do you know? There he is, all butt naked and ready for us.”

Angel saw out of the corner of his eyes how Spike slowly got up off the bed. “You're not getting near him. Get the hell out of my home.” He signalled Spike to stay back but he paid it no mind and moved forward until he was standing beside Angel, naked and proud although Angel knew he had to be trembling inside.

“Oh, how sweet. Don't worry, you'll get to watch as we break him. Again. Or maybe we should start with you? Fresh meat.”

Spike stepped forward, pushing Angel behind him. “You leave him alone, you bloody pervert. You lay one finger on him and I'll...”

“What? Faint like a girl?” Forrest laughed cruelly.

Spike stilled. Then a cold smile twitched his lips and he tilted his head. “You have something of mine. You took them and I want them back.”

Forrest snorted. “Yeah? What's that? Your marbles?”

“My bollocks.” Spike shook free from Angel who was trying to hold him back and stepped up until he was less than an arm's lengths away. “You stole my bloody balls, you fucking rapist. I want them back.”

“What?” He frowned in confusion then shook his head and laughed. “You really have lost your marbles. Come on. Give it your best. I just love seeing that chip frying your brain.”

“See, that's just the thing.”

Spike smiled. Then in a flurry of movement he swung around on the ball off his left foot, the heel of his right one hitting Forrest straight in the jaw, sending him flying across the room and smashing into the wall. He shook his head and stared dazed up at Spike who stood looking down at him with golden eyes, licking his fangs.

“The chip? Not really working anymore.”

“You...”

“Don't know if I ever introduced myself, gentlemen. My name is William the Bloody.”

They all ran at him at the same time. Angel stood dazed and stared at the chaos of army green swinging fists and kicking with heavy boots as Spike moved like a dancer, turning that way and twisting the other until finally he stood alone surrounded by the limp bodies of unconscious soldiers. Forrest sat frozen in shock, not even trying to get away as Spike stepped over and crouched before him, his face once again smooth and smiling.

“Please.”

Spike tilted his head. “You're a shitty little bug, aren't you? Say 'yes, sir'.”

“Ye-es, sir.” Face ashen, voice trembling.

“Call yourself human. Think you're better than us demons 'cos you've got that fancy soul. But you're not, are you?”

“No, sir. Please.”

Spike reached out and lay a palm on Forrest's chest, then shook his head and drew his hand back in disgust. “Don't even know what that soul is for, do you? Don't deserve it, I reckon. Should set it free. Sure someone else could use it.”

The terrified man searched in panic for an escape but Spike grabbed his hair and forced his head to the side exposing the dark neck where a jugular vein pounded in terror. “Please, sir. Don't kill me!”

“Who said anything about killing you? Well, not entirely?”

Spike's face shifted again and he grinned, flashing his fangs. “Bet you'd make a great vampire.”

“Spike...” Angel's voice seemed weak and far away.

Spike changed back but his eyes never left his prey. “See this one, sire? He likes raping pretty boys. I wasn't the only one. Not the first, not going to be the last. Remember little Billy who used to bring Dru dolls? How old was he when he was turned? Twelve? Evil as the devil but he still used to cry and miss his mummy. Well, he sure cried when this filth was pounding into him. Cried like the little kiddie he still was despite everything. Our friend Forrest liked that. Didn't like little Billy throwing up on his cock though. Staked him for real then. Was a blessing really. How long had he been your whore, mate? A month was it? Two?”

His voice shook slightly but he didn't look away, not even when the stink of urine assaulted his nose. He studied the dark face that now showed nothing but utter terror. The face from his nightmares, the devil from his dreams. He seemed so insignificant now.

A hand was laid on his shoulder and he reached up and lay his own over it, only resisting slightly when he was pulled to his feet and turned around. Angel gazed into his eyes, cupping his face gently. Then he leaned down and kissed him softly before pushing him aside and with a quick twist breaking Forrest's neck.

“Angel!” Spike stared at him in shock.

“Were you going to do it?”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Why?”

Spike shook his head. “Why did you?”

“Because people like him shouldn't live. Why didn't you kill him?”  
  
Spike stood silent for a moment looking at the body at his feet. Then he raised his head and gazed straight into Angel's eyes. “Because I love you.”

Angel blinked. “Come again?”

“First night out I got jumped in an alley. I fought back. Nothing happened. No blinding pain, no white flashes, no nothing. I knocked the thug out and walked away.”

Angel nodded. “The chip really is broken.” His voice trembled slightly.

“Yeah, but that's not the point. I've been going out every night for a week now. I can smell the blood pounding in their veins, I can hear their hearts pumping. I walk away.”

He reached up and stroke Angel's face, eyes glittering with emotion. “I walk away because I love you.”

Angel swallowed, fear still lingering in his eyes. “It's only a week.”

“I know. I'm not stupid, Angel. The craving is still there. Been half a year since I last got a decent meal. Of course I want to grab the next girl and drain her dry. But if I did we would be over. And I can't do that to you.” He tilted his head, his eyes filled with sincerity and hope. “I love you too much, Angel. You are my reason.”

Angel stared down at him, fear and hope flickering across his face. Then he took a deep breath and stepped closer, pulling Spike in and crushed their lips together. Spike melted into the kiss, relief flooding over him. They stood wrapped up in each other's arms, hardly even noticing the soldiers slowly gaining consciousness and scrambling out of the room and up the stairs to the office, leaving their dead leader lying on the floor.

After a long while they pulled back, both feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Spike cleared his throat and let go of Angel's waist. “Think we need to tidy up.” He nodded toward the body. “How does car accident sound?”

“I was thinking more suicide. Lots of piers a depressed soldier might accidentally fall off. Might even take some days before they find him if he happened to be weighted down with some stuff. Like that gun and yeah, some stones in his pockets.”

“Brilliant! Erm... I mean, very sad. Tragic.” Spike nodded solemnly.

“Suicide it is.” Angel looked indifferently down at the dead soldier. “Have to wait for it to get dark but I suppose we can stash him somewhere until then.”

Spike stumbled slightly and walked slowly over to the bed. “If you don't mind I think I'll stay here while you...”

Angel turned to him with concern. “Of course, Will. This must be very hard for you after what he...”

“Actually, I think I might have cracked my hip again with that twist thing earlier.” He glared up at Angel who was trying to suppress a smile. “One word out of you and I'll never fuck you again.” He smirked as Angel sobered up quickly and pulled on pants and shoes before picking up the cooling body and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I'll be right back.”

Spike moved to stand up to kiss him but grimaced and sat back down. “I'll be here, resting my bones.”

“You do that.” A grin spread over Angel's face. “Grandpa.”

“Hey! No sex for you.”

“Like you could ever stay away from me now.”

Spike growled then sighed and let himself fall back on the pillows, pulling the covers over his naked body. “Bugger. You got me there.”

Angel laughed softly as he left with his burden. When he returned ten minutes later Spike was already sleeping soundly, only a tuft of white hair showing. Angel stood watching him for a long time before turning away and heading up to the office.

He was sure Wes and Cordy would appreciate a few days off. Especially if he told them what he was planning on using his free time for.

 

fin

 


End file.
